Cross Roads
by Midnight Angel414
Summary: With the events of the past 8 months behind them, Sherlock and Amber jump headlong into working cases together along with John. But when faced with an underlying issue of political scandal involving Amber's family, they find themselves facing a cross road. Are they destined to walk down the aisle or will they go their separate ways? 2nd in The Study of Life series. M for content.
1. 000

_Hello there all, and welcome to Cross Roads! I want to mention to all those reading this for the first time that this is the second in The Study of Life series involving Sherlock and my OC Amber Devons(or Amberlock as you guys have voted!). The first in the series is Breaking the Barrier, so if you have not read that you might want to go back and do so. Otherwise you might be a little bit confused as to what is going on, especially in this first chapter. _

_Next, I want to thank everyone who read Breaking the Barrier, reviewed it, and put it on their follow/favorite list. You guys are amazing and I'm hoping that you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. I will personally answer all of the final reviews on Breaking the Barrier personally through PM, any and all reviews on this story will be posted at the beginning of each chapter, or in the author's note at the end depending on how many I get on each chapter! _

_Anyways, enjoy the show!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I do however own Amber and any other person you do not recognize as well as the plot. _

* * *

**[000]**

"Amber, will you marry me?"

Amber could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest as she stood before Sherlock, his question still ringing through her mind. It was only fitting, him proposing in the middle of a graveyard. She was currently laying a chapter of her life to rest and here he was offering her a page to turn in order to start a new chapter. It was damn near poetic if she thought about it and more than a little startling.

"Sherlock," she murmured, staring at the ring he was currently holding out to her. It seemed to sparkle whenever the sparse sunlight shifted through the clouds and hit the stone, sending a rainbow of color spilling in a multitude of different directions. Though she didn't want to take her eyes off of it, it was so gorgeous after all, she managed pulled her gaze away long enough to look at Sherlock's face. She saw a patient expression gracing his features. Sherlock was never one for patience, even when it concerned her. He was the type of person who wanted things answered fast. But now he stood there, silent and curious as he watched her.

She took a deep breath, fighting the urge to nibble at her bottom lip. "Sherlock, it's only been seven months."

"Yes," he said, his brows pulling down as they began to furrow. That had not been the answer he was expecting or hoping for that matter.

The fact that he truly didn't understand had Amber chuckling lightly, a small smirk on her face. He was, at moments, ignorant, just as John had written in his blog so long ago. "We've only been dating for seven months Sherlock. Don't you think it's a little early to talk about marriage?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, the arm holding out the ring slowly dropping as he began to think that Amber was declining his offer, even if she hadn't specifically stated that as of yet. "We're not talking about it, I was simply asking you." He really was confused, even more so when she simply shook her head lightly and chuckle at him some more. "Isn't this what is expected of two people who are in love?"

That had her blinking in surprise. He had a very good point, but given how her last marriage had turned out she really was reluctant about saying yes. She had thought she had loved Scot and it had been a natural thing to simply get married. It was what she had thought was supposed to happen. It had ended badly and though he couldn't harm her now she was still a little bit gun shy when it came to the idea of tying herself to another human being. Just like she was gun shy about being alone, anywhere.

She loved Sherlock, more so than she had ever loved anyone in her life. Of that she was sure. She had realized this when she had woken up in the hospital three days after technically dying and the first thing she had said had been Sherlock's name. She hadn't called to him because she wanted him there beside her, she had called him because she wanted to make sure he was okay. He had saved her and she had wanted to know that he was fine even if she was laying in a bed with an IV in her arm and all sorts of monitors hooked to her body. Worrying about his welfare had come before learning of how badly she had actually been injured. If that didn't say something about her feelings for the man, she didn't know what did.

But was she ready to actually marry Sherlock, or at least become engaged? Could she actually handle no longer being his girlfriend but his fiancée and later wife? There were so many questions but she really had no answer to any of them. Sometimes, she had learned, it was best to just jump in and see how it all turns out, especially when her heart and mind were telling her it would all work out in the end. "Yes," she finally whispered, barely audible as the wind began to whip around them, signaling an incoming storm.

Sherlock, not understanding her context of the answer 'yes', continued on with his explanation as to why he was proposing. "Then I do think it appropriate..."

Amber managed to cut him off by grabbing the hand that had been offering her the ring, which now hung limply by his side, the ring still in his fingers, as if he had forgotten it for the time being. It was completely possible that he had forgotten he had it in his hand. This was Sherlock she was talking about, it could have been either of those.

She took the little band of metal and diamond and smiled up at Sherlock. "Sherlock, love, your a clod sometimes. I meant yes to your first question. I will marry you." Her smile widened as she slipped the ring onto her left ring finger. To her surprise it fit perfectly, but then again it was Sherlock who had asked her. He had probably managed to get it sized just right by remembering the feel of her fingers laced with his. It was the perfect size as well, stunning against her pale skin. Looking at it now, it looked older, more antique. The center stone was square cut and the three little diamonds on the side were rounded. The band was platinum if she had to hazard a guess, with a small inlay pattern that she hadn't seen on any newer style rings.

That made her extremely happy, knowing that it wasn't just something new he bought on a whim because it was pretty. She knew, on some level, the ring came from somewhere in Sherlock's family and that touched her more than any new ring could have. "I'd be honored to call myself your wife."

Sherlock, for a moment, was simply stunned. After a few moments his face broke out into a smile and she simple just laughed as she launched herself into his arms. His wrapped around her waist, careful of the bruises still on her body, holding her close. She laughed as she buried her face into his neck, feeling the tears of happiness gather in her eyes.

She didn't know how long they stood like that, the two of them embracing on the hill where her parents were buried, but they did eventually release one another, smiling together. Amber looked down at the ring with a smile so wide it hurt her cheeks before looking back up at Sherlock. "Thank you Sherlock."

"Happy birthday Amber," he whispered lightly as he brought his face down to hers for a sweet and soft kiss.

Amber's heart soared at hearing those words. It was her birthday and the only other people to wish her such sentiment had been Megan in a phone call and John in a text message. She knew once she arrived back in London others would wish her a belated birthday, but for some reason hearing it from Sherlock made her day. "You didn't just come here to make sure I wasn't alone. You came because you knew it was my birthday," she said. "You've made it one I'll never forget."

"One can hope so, but I believe it would be appropriate to leave you alone for the time being," he offered with a nod to the gravestones she had been talking to before he had startled her. He didn't quite understand the urge to talk to a gravestone, and he had refused to ask John about it either after having seen him talk to the the gravestone baring 'Sherlock Holmes'. It was, he supposed, a personal matter and a way of coping with loss, not matter how old or new it might have been.

"I can assume you know where I'm staying. I'll see you back there later," she smiled sweetly up at him, her hand on his cheek. She swiped her thumb across the healed gash just on his cheekbone. It was a small mark, one that within a few weeks would be gone. "I love you."

He smirked down at her. "I love you too," he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear before kissing her once more, this time a little deeper. He left her alone on the hill where she watched him go until she couldn't see him any longer. She turned back to her parent's grave and couldn't help the small smile playing on her face.

"He's the brilliant one I was talking about. You'd both love him, at least I could hope you would. He can be a bit rude and arrogant at times but he's a good man underneath it all. The most human person I've ever met really despite what he might say on the topic," she chuckled out.

"He saved me, Bri too. He's saved so many people, you know. He put them before himself, sacrificed a year of his life to keep them all safe. I didn't know him then but I did know _of_ him. I never thought eight months ago that I would be here now," she said looking down at her ring but instead saw the fading scabs and marks on her wrists. The scars would stick around for a while but before long they would fade or disappear completely. She was hoping for that latter rather than the former.

She felt herself tear up then, not at a memory but feeling so overwhelmed and happy in that moment. "He loves me mum and he treats me right dad. He's saved me so many times just by being here, even before we started our relationship. I know it's soon, I know seven months is so short but you two," she chuckled lightly through the tears "You two barely knew each other when you became engaged. Scot and I," she tried to breath calmly, swiping at her tears while a little flutter of panic spiked within her at the thought of that man. "We were a mistake. A very large one. I knew that now and I think I knew it from the start. I was just young and so naïve and I tried to ignore what my instincts were telling me. But I'm not that young any more am I? I'm twenty nine today. Lovely way to spend my birthday, standing in a graveyard. I wouldn't have it any other way, you know."

Then it hit her, the conversation she and Sherlock had had the evening she had gone undercover at that gala. When they were working on their back story they had come up with the idea of having gotten engaged after she had visited her parents' grave. She smiled at that. It hadn't gone exactly like they had talked about but she was visiting her parents and they had gotten engaged. She smiled at that, the parallel, as if Sherlock had remembered and played off of that. She doubted that though. It was merely coincidence. That didn't mean that she didn't laugh lightly at the notion.

"Bri will be out of the hospital when I get home, back to London that is. She's doing good, gaining weight, and healing. She's seeing a therapist, getting the help she needs. I'm moving her into my flat and I suppose I'm moving up with Sherlock and his roommate John. Megan already lives as close to Baker Street as she can without being on the street. She won't admit it but she spends more time in the flat with John than she does at her own flat. I keep trying to say she should just move in but she keeps claiming its too cramped as it is." She fell silent after a moment, composing her thoughts.

"I just want you guys and Sean and Kelly and," she choked a bit on her next words. "My baby, to know that I love you all. I know I come here a lot and I know now that missing you and visiting you is normal, but I might not come as often as I did." She wrung her wrists, nervous now as she spoke.

"I'm not forgetting you, I could never do that. I'm just moving on a little bit I suppose. I've been clinging to the past because I've been so scared. I've been too scared to look forward because all I've ever done is look back, remembering what could have, and should have been." She shook her head because she knew that she shouldn't cling to the past. It was the truth, the past had always haunted her, and she always wondered what life _should_ have been like. The past was the past though and that's where it belonged.

"I can't keep thinking like that, even if I've never done so consciously until just recently. This is a chapter I might revisit some days, because it's one of those life chapters that made me who I am today. I might skim the top, come 'round for a visit once in a while, but I've got other chapters to read and explore and pay attention to. I just wanted to come here and say I love you lot so much and that I will never forget you. I carry you all in my heart and my mind and I'll do so until the day I die, but I'm adding a few new people to my heart and mind and I know you'll be okay with that. You want me happy, I know that. So," she took a deep breath, looking at the ring on her finger as she felt a tear slip from the corner of her eye. "I love you all so very much."

She touched her mother's gravestone first before moving down the line, kneeling down in front of her son's gravestone. She kissed the tips of her fingers and pressed her hand against the cold stone. She sighed as she stood back up, the ache in her hip growing but she paid it no mind as she turned and headed back down the path leading from where she was to the park lot nearly half a mile away. The walk was going to hurt, considering she had to go up hill first before she got to flatter land.

Enjoying the walk, and the time to herself, she took her time exiting the graveyard. While it might seem a bit morbid, Amber had always enjoyed walking through that particular cemetery. It was a large sprawling expanse of green. All dips and hills and beautiful trees and flowers and rocks. It was Scottish down to the bone, with large mausoleums which had been there long before she had been born and would be there long after she passed. The place was as much a destination for the living as it was the dead. It was a place to remember those who had passed, those who had been loved and had been lost. It was a place the living sought peace just as much as the dead sought rest. She had always loved that about the graveyard. It never felt weird of scary, walking down those little walkways. It just felt...peaceful.

When she did make it back to her rental car, she looked back at the wrought iron gates standing tall as if protecting the dead, realizing that when she actually die, which would be a long while from now she hoped, she too would be buried with her family. Though it was an odd and depressing thought at the moment, she wondered what name her gravestone would bare. Her maiden surname or her married one. Her mother had hyphenated and she wasn't sure if she wanted to go down that route. She wasn't to fond of being a Devons, with their connections in politics and the government, but she loved it as well. She was most certainly going to take Holmes as her last name, though it might upset her family in the end. Even her married female cousins had hyphenated, all too happy to keep their last names as well as the names of their respected others.

Shaking her head of those thoughts because it really was to early to be thinking about name changes, Amber didn't linger any longer in the parking lot. She got into the car and drove off down the road leading back into town, heading for the bed and breakfast she was staying at, the one she always stayed at.

000000000000000

Amber didn't head back to the bed and breakfast as she had originally intended. Instead she drove to the little cafe she spent most of her time at when she happened to be in town. She loved that little cafe. It served the best handmade sandwiches and fresh soups. The coffees and teas weren't half bad either, though she came more for the food. She was a well known fixture, having found the place a little over four years ago. She loved it in there, loved that the owners knew her by name and knew what she always liked to get.

So when she walked in and ordered, everyone was surprised that she asked for two sandwiches to-go and a large cup of the fresh daily soup as well as two teas. She was only a half a mile away from the bed and breakfast after all. "I have a friend along with my this time round," she gave as her answer when she paid.

The woman behind the counter, a young thing she had meet last year, took notice of the ring on her finger. "Congratulations," the girl said with a smile and nod at the ring which had made it clear what kind of friend had come along with her.

Self-conscious and still not used to wearing the ring, she played with it a bit. "Thanks," she mumbled, slightly embarrassed at having had it pointed out so obviously. She knew it was bound to happen and she knew that it would happen back in London as well.

"Still a little new?" the girl asked as she handed Amber back her change.

"Yeah," Amber said sheepishly, stuffing the coins in her pocket. "Yeah just a little," she continued to play with the ring as she moved to the side to wait for her food while other costumers were seen to. It wasn't more than ten minutes later that she had a large bag and two to-go cups of tea in her hands. She said her goodbyes, was helped with the door by a little old man who also congratulated her on her engagement, seeing the ring on her finger, and was offered help in the parking lot by a sweet young man who didn't even try to hit on her.

When she finally did manage to pull out of the parking lot she was smiling from ear to ear. Even in a city like Edinburgh, or at least a little town outside of it, people were nice and sweet, even if they didn't know you. It had been years since she had lived in this sweet little town, years since she had done anything but visit for a week, yet days like this were what made her realize that though she wasn't a part of the town, her family still was. Even as long as they had been buried, the name Devons still stuck around and still meant something. As much as she hated the family name, she loved that and she always would.

The drive back the bed and breakfast was quick, smooth, and uneventful, not that she had thought it would be other wise. She was greeted inside by the owner of the establishment with a smile and a wave as she headed for the stairs. She grimaced as she walked to the second floor suite she had, but didn't complain. Her sore and tired muscles needed the workout or else the pain would be worse when she finally did use them.

She carefully unlocked the door to her suite, balancing the cup holder in her other hand as well as holding the bag of food. Carefully, she slipped into the room, pulling the key out of the door and shutting it behind her, remembering to flick the lock closed. She toed off her shoes as she walked into the suite noting that Sherlock's things were now floating here and there. It was rather domestic scene really.

His coat was hanging over a chair in the living area, his shoes were by the door, near where she had put hers, and his phone as well as keys and wallet were haphazardly thrown on the small table by the window. She smiled as she walked into the small kitchenette area of the suite, having rented the room specifically for that purpose considering the week she usually spent in Scotland she often ate takeaway or brought the supplies to make small meals from a grocer just down the street.

Setting everything on the counter, she shed her coat and laid it across Sherlock's and went in search of the man in question. She found him curled on the bed, well more like sprawled across the bedspread, sleeping as if he hadn't slept in days.

She smiled at the sight. She knew for a fact he hadn't been sleeping well, not that he slept well before hand, but lately it had been worse. She had often woke in the middle of the night to find him no longer beside her. One time she had found him curled on her couch after having woken up with him there. She knew that it had to do with her, the reason he wasn't sleeping much. She knew that it was because she had been injured and had only just returned home from the hospital. She knew he had spent two long weeks without her in his bed and she knew that even now he reached for her in his sleep. She could tell because his arms were out stretched on the side of the bed which would have been hers had she been sleeping there beside him.

With a very soft smile on her face, she tip toed her way out of the room and back to the kitchenette where she put everything in the small fridge. She headed back to the bedroom and gathered her belongings to take a shower, which included comfortable clothing seeing as Sherlock was in the room and she couldn't just go waltzing out naked. Sometimes she wished she could but since their relationship wasn't that physical and they hadn't actually done anything besides a couple of good snogging sessions that lead to a little groping, she wasn't quite that comfortable being naked around him. She knew they'd get to the point where she could walk out of the shower naked and then into the room, but for now she would change in the bathroom. It didn't bother her.

She was quick with the shower, fully assuming that Sherlock would wake up sometime while she was in there. However, when she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and towel drying her hair, she found him in the same spot he had been when she had gone into the bathroom. Chuckling to herself, she throw her towels into the corner and made her way to the bed with a soft yawn.

She looked at the man currently hogging most of the space and sat down for a moment. She felt him shift away which allowed her to lay down, her back to his front with her head snuggled onto one of the pillows he had yet to shove off the bed.

Though Sherlock was still sleeping, he sought her out, wrapping his arms around her waist and folding himself around her so that they were spooning. It was a comfortable position and considering she wasn't under the blanket, it kept her rather warm.

Amber closed her eyes and for the first time in days she didn't see the horrible events of weeks gone by playing out behind her eyelids. She didn't fall asleep either. Instead she just ended up laying there, content, as she worried once more for the current state of Sherlock. He had lost a little bit of weight in the last month, weight he could afford to lose. He was already so thin as it was. He had begun to sleep less and less, even when they weren't working a case. The fact that he was sleeping now made her immensely happy because he truly needed the rest. She also knew he had taken up smoking again. Though, as of a week ago, after a lovely little confrontation about it he was trying to quite. It worried her, it worried John, it worried Mrs. Hudson, and it even worried Megan and Lestrade.

She knew it was going to take some time for Sherlock to bounce back. She had learned that Sherlock had been in the ambulance when she had coded and technically died. She knew it had to hurt him to know that she might not have made it, to have seen her laying there not breathing with a machine screaming the fact that her heart wasn't beating. So she knew that this whole thing was affecting him in ways she doubted he even understood or thought about. She might be okay and in his arms now but if things had gone differently, well it would be Sherlock visiting her grave instead of her visiting her family. It weighed heavy on even her heart, thinking that there might have been a moment where she wasn't with Sherlock. That was enough to scare her into holding his arms closer around her every time they hugged or laid in bed together. That was why she said she loved him so often or kissed him at random moments when they were alone.

But right now she wished there was a way for her to tell him she understood what he was going through without actually telling him so blatantly. He would never accept what she told him because it didn't make sense to him. He would say that she was alive and perfectly fine, a little scared and bruised but nothing else. He would deny the worry and thoughts of 'what if' or 'what might have been'. His mind didn't work that way, at least that was what he would insist even though everyone knew different. Sherlock wasn't as apathetic as he made himself out to be. He felt just like the rest of the human populace, he just felt and showed it in a different manner than most people. Even she often expressed herself differently that those she knew.

Sighing lightly, she snuggled deeper into the bed against Sherlock, just enjoying this moment of peace while laying in his arms. He needed this sleep as much as she needed the moment of quietness to reflect. With a rather large, yet quiet, yawn, she closed her eyes and just laid there, her mind at ease as she tried to allow herself to get some kind of sleep. Lord knows she needed a nap.

When she finally woke up several hours later, Amber found the room dark, the windows shades closed and the blankets draped over her. She yawned as she sat up in the bed looking around for Sherlock as she usually did when she learned he wasn't in bed with her. However, she could hear him puttering about in the living area, the telly on low. She smiled as she kicked off the blankets and went to join him.

As she walked through the bedroom to the living room, she ran her hair though her now dry hair, realizing that it was rather knotted thanks to having fallen asleep without it being dry or brushed. It was going to hurt later, running a brush through it, but for now she didn't care. Sherlock had seen her with bed head before, it was nothing new considering she had rather curly hair. In fact she had seen Sherlock with messy hair almost every morning because his hair too was curly. Granted it wasn't as bad as hers but it could be pretty bad at moments. She loved running her hands through his messy hair in the mornings just like she knew he enjoyed playing with her curls at random moments.

She found him in the couch, her laptop on the table in front of her, a pack of cigarettes haphazardly thrown on the top, several of them missing. She rose her brow at the sight, walked to the table and swiped the cigarettes, lifting the lid to see the how many he had actually smoked. Given the amount missing and how many were still left, she gauged how long it had been since he had bought the pack. She figured it was about three days. She had to admit it was tempting to steal one, but she wasn't much for smoking any longer.

"You really should quit," she muttered, knowing he was quitting slowly, as she tossed them back on the table before heading in the direction of the small kitchenette. She removed both sandwiches and the cup of soup from the fridge as well as the teas. "Hungry?" she asked sweetly as she grabbed a couple of paper plates. She placed a sandwich on each plate before putting the soup into one of the microwave safe bowls that were found in the kitchenette.

"Yeah, sure," Sherlock mumbled from his spot in front of the computer. It was as if he didn't even hear it. That was the usual, he might be aware of her presence but that didn't always mean he paid attention to her. She never minded though because he was there and that was what mattered. He didn't mind if she chattered away because he rarely yelled at her to shut up when she did so.

With a roll of her eyes she grabbed up both plates while the soup heated up. She set a plate in front of Sherlock before sitting herself down on the couch beside him, taking a bite of her sandwich. "Sherlock," she said after she had finished chewing. He didn't respond, just continued to scroll through his website in hopes of finding a case, at least she figured that was what he was doing. "Sherlock," she called again, putting her plate on the table in front of her beside Sherlock's. She placed her hand on his thigh, giving it a slight squeeze.

That seemed to get his attention, enough that he actually stopped looking at the computer screen and looked at her. "Hello," she smiled as she spoke. "Nice to see I'm talking _to_ you instead of _at_ you now," she chuckled and rubbed her hand along his thigh lightly before removing her hand only to have him grab hold of it and lace his fingers through hers.

"How did you sleep?" he asked calmly, looking down at the plate she had sat in front of him. He wasn't hungry, not really, but he knew he had to eat or else she would harp about it until he did.

The beep of the microwave had her giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze before removing it. "Quite well actually. No nightmares this time round," she said as the got up to get the soup out of the microwave. It was common knowledge, at least to anyone who was close to her, that over the past month she had suffered from some nightmares, which thankfully were becoming less and less as the days slipped by. She blamed it on her memory. There were things she wouldn't ever forget and sometimes those things plagued her mind for months until the memories were safely hidden away.

"That's good," he said standing up to join her in the kitchenette, both their plates in hand.

She nodded as she dished out the soup into smaller bowls. That was why she loved this place. It might have been a small bed and breakfast but each suite had a bathroom, bedroom, living room, and small kitchen area as well as enough equipment for the guests to use in case they didn't want to head downstairs for meals. She scooted a bowl over to him as well as handing him a spoon.

"How have you been sleeping?" she prompted before taking another bite of the cold sandwich. When she didn't answer she just sighed and set the food back down. "Sherlock, love, there is nothing wrong with having an issue sleeping. I know you don't sleep as much as the rest of us. Lord knows I've seen you go three days without so much as a nap, but there is no shame in not being able to sleep when you want to. You can talk to me and I won't tell a soul," she finished softly as she laid her left hand over his on the counter. She did that purposely so that he would see the ring, reminding him that this was what a couple did. They talked to one another, even if the topic was hard or embarrassing, or the other party wasn't used to talking to someone else about something personal. "But I understa—"

"I keep seeing you..." he paused trying to form the words but not really wanting to say them. He wasn't good at expressing things, at letting others in. She had broken through his emotional barriers yes, but that didn't mean he was any better at talking. He wasn't used to talking about it either, having always bottled up what he felt until it just because a natural thing to do.

"I understand," she whispered, now griping his hand. "I still dream about it, seeing myself as if I'm hovering over my body. I still think about it too from time to time. It's only been a month Sherlock, there is a learning curve here that we've both got to deal with. It is going to take some time but we'll get back to normal. There will come a time when we can both fall asleep at night without dreaming of me being dead. Hopefully that time is just around the corner because I'm sick of waking up scared. Today was the first time I haven't woken up with my heart racing," she admitted lightly.

Sherlock looked at her for a moment, gauging what she had just said. Not the whole of her statement, he knew she was right, but that last bit of information, that today had been the first time she had actually woken up without being scared. In the two weeks since her release from the hospital they had, of course, shared the bed. It had become such a natural thing that neither one of them felt the need to change the habit. However, he had failed to notice in the mornings that she had apparently woken up in fear of a nightmare she had had. He knew she had them, she had openly stated such, but he didn't know that she woke up scared in such a manner that her heart raced.

"Eat," she finally said after several moments. "Then we can look and see if there are any cases that need you're help right now." She smiled at him and once more picked up her sandwich as he did the same. He smirked before taking a bite, happy to see her smiling, and even more happy to see that damn ring on her finger.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome: **

**A/N: Soooo...how'd I do? This is just a little preface to the story, more like summing up Breaking the Barrier really. At first we're going to see a lot of mentions of Amber, Sherlock, John, Megan, and Brianna dealing with the events of the previous story. As the story moves along there will be less and less mention of it as they move away from those events and into the current plot with much different issues. We will also be getting a little bit of smut in this story as well, hope you'll enjoy that. **

**As a little reminder, I will not be posting another chapter of this story until next Wednesday as I attempt to get myself several chapters ahead so as not to work chapter by chapter. I have done that in the past and it's a pain in the ass considering I update twice a week. If I managed to get myself a head before Sunday you MIGHT get a chapter. If not the regular update schedule will resume next Wednesday. Hope you understand. **

**And, lastly I do need some suggestions for some mini cases the trio, meaning Sherlock, Amber, and John, to work. I have had a few suggestions but I wouldn't mind a few more if you guys don't mind sending me your ideas. They don't have to be major cases. They can involve murder, robbery, missing persons, or anything exciting you can think of. You will get credit for the idea at the start of each chapter dealing with that case and of course my gratitude and love for helping me! Don't feel scared to PM me, I always love to talk!**

**Until next time my lovelies!**


	2. 001

_It is Wednesday once more, enjoy the chapter! _

**_Empress of Verace: _**_The proposal was so hard, I rewrote that scene several times and I'm glad you loved it. Yes they are both having nightmares, both about different things though. It's logical that after what happened they would both be suffering a little bit and I assure you they will get better, not sure when though. Enjoy the update!_

**_animelover56348: _**_Yay, thank you! I am really hoping this lives up to the previous story. I really really do. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!_

**_bored411: _**_Thank you. I wanted it come across that Amber is still dealing with what happened and her thoughts on the subject, which I'm sure will pop up quite often to begin with. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

**_lightsabove: _**_Hehe, you have no idea how excited I am that you are actually excited to be reading this sequel, especially after you said you aren't much for sequels! I'm so glad you're sticking around :) Please enjoy the chapter!_

**_CarminaxBuranax: _**_Thank god my character development is still there. I don't want anyone becoming OOC or Amber becoming Mary Sueish. There will definiatle be a lot more of Brianna in here, I just hope I do her justice! I mean I made her suffer already XD No worries about no mini cases idea. I think I'm going to be okay in that department lol but I'm always open for suggestions if you happen to have one later :) Enjoy the chapter!_

**_BrokenCalibre: _**_Yay! I was worried that first chapter came off as more of a epilogue for the last story. Oh there will be drama...most certainly, but a different kind of drama than in the last story, I hope. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

**_Loki'sdreamer: _**_Lol no problem. I love Scotland. I was supposed to take a couple days to visit when I was in England but sadly funds did not allow me to do so. I will, one day, get to Scotland! I'm glad you liked how Amber was worrying about the little things. We're going to be seeing a little more of that for a little while, considering what happened. Enjoy the chapter :D_

**_Gwilwillith: _**_Thank you! Enjoy the update!_

**_KijoKuroi: _**_There is plenty more adorableness to come, trust me. This story might be a little more lighter than the last one, I'm hoping. So here is your adorableness lol. Enjoy :)_

**_arisa0: _**_I hope this sequel does turn out awesome, that's what I'm aiming for. So enjoy!_

**_The Yoshinator: _**_I believe I addressed this already in a PM. Sorry about the confusion BTW, hope there won't be any more! Enjoy the chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock. I just own Amber and everything else you don't recognize for the show! I promise!_

* * *

**[001]**

Sherlock laid on the couch, his head in Amber's lap while she used one hand to scroll through his web site while the other played lightly with his hair. It was all rather normal for the two of them, especially as of late. Amber seemed to crave to physical contact now more than ever. Sherlock, well, he didn't crave the physical contact but he enjoyed it quite a lot. Her touch made him smile, brought a sense of warmth to his heart that he wasn't used to feeling, but was becoming so enamored with that he often sought her touch even if it was just a hand to hold while sitting in a taxi or standing on the tube. Even when he was in the middle of working a case he never minded her being there, touching him, even in the smallest of manners. A brush of finger tips here, or the light pressure of her hand wrapping around his.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Amber exclaimed suddenly, her hand removing itself form his hair as she clicked a link to a different page of his site. She was pulled to his message board page. "You've got at least a dozen offers for cases Sherlock. How the bloody hell can you possibly be bored?"

"None of them are worth my time," he waved it off as he looked up at her. He had already gone through all of those case offers and the ones on John's blog. There was nothing and he was bored.

She flicked her eyes to look at him, smiling that exasperated little smile she often used when Sherlock was being...well...Sherlock. She shook her head before turning her gaze back to the screen to sift through the numerous cases littering the page. She blew off a few, already able to tell they weren't worth any of their time. She opened three of the dozen or so messages in different tabs as she continued to scan through the rest until finally she came to an interesting one which said it had been viewed multiple times. "Sherlock," she tapped his head lightly. "What about this one. You've read it at least five times according to the views."

Sherlock removed himself from her lap until he was sitting beside her. He pressed lightly against her side as he looked at the message she had opened. "Simple case of suicide."

"Why the hell would someone ask you to investigate a suicide?" she asked lightly as she skimmed over the rather long and detailed message, noting that there were several attachments. She clicked the button only to find that they were pictures of the crime scene, and very shoddy ones at that, as well as official looking reports. She scoffed lightly.

"The wife thought it was murder, the police thought it suicide. I had to agree with the police, it was indeed a suicide. The man shot himself in the head, reasons unknown to the wife and the police but it probably had to do with his failing business, the gambling habit he had, and the fact that he was broke," Sherlock stated simply. He'd actually gone back to that particular file multiple times just to make sure he figured out everything, that way the wife would quit sending him emails asking if he had solved the 'murder' of her husband.

"Well it most certainly was a suicide. But I can understand the wife not wanting to believe something like that," Amber muttered as she leaned in for a closer look at the photographs. They really were terrible in quality and taken from a camera phone no doubt. The wife had most likely taken them before she had even called the police. That wasn't to say she couldn't see what she needed to see, it was just harder to see than if they had been taken professionally or with a better camera. "Or maybe she had another reason to hope it was murder and not suicide."

"Go a head, tell me what you see," Sherlock sat back, crossed his arms and gave her a smirk.

"No," Amber's eyes grew wide and she waved her hand for emphases. "No, no. The last time you let me loose on a case you refused to speak with me for two days because I got everything right and you couldn't show off in front of John and the clients. You couldn't even show off in front of me because I was the one showing off. I'm not doing that again. I don't like when you actively try to ignore me."

"Showing off is what I do, it's how we get cases. However, this isn't an open case and there isn't anyone around to impress but me and you. Dazzle me with your deductions." His smirk widened when he saw her eyebrow raise.

"Fine," Amber huffed before reading through the attached reports and looking back to the pictures, taking everything in before she turned back to Sherlock. She shifted the laptop so that he could see the pictures as she talked, that and she wanted to make sure they were still within her visual range so she could look at Sherlock while seeing the pictures. She didn't show off often enough and she wasn't going to let him get the best of her.

"According to the wife she arrived home at eight in the evening last Tuesday. According to the report she so kindly attached to her message, which hosted her recollection of the events that occurred, she came home to her husband's car in the drive when he was supposed to be out of town on business. She walked inside calling his name, he didn't answer. She went in search of him only to find him in the sitting room with blood everywhere. She spotted the gun on the ground beside her husband, she claims it wasn't his gun and according to the police it wasn't registered to him, it was registered to a mate of his who claimed he lent it to Mr.," she glanced at the screen. "Lawrence, for protection given that he was a city boy. He probably angered a lot of people on his way to the top or due to his gambling problem. No doubt the mate didn't know the intended purpose of the gun. Mrs. Lawrence claimed it was murder on those grounds, the gun not being her husband's after all, that and a few objects were 'missing' from the sitting room. The police believe it is suicide because of the prints found on the gun, the fact that there wasn't forced entry and the wife has an alibi." Sherlock knew all this, had read the report, which Amber was currently summarizing for her own good rather than his own. He wanted her to look at the pictures and tell him what she SAW but he waited and didn't say anything.

Finally she did motion over to the pictures, "I have to agree with the police however, given the place Mr. Lawrence was situated, the way the gun was laying on the floor and the blood splatter, it was a self inflicted gunshot by a man who is, or was, right handed. Clues beside that are the missing vases on the mantle, probably expensive given the state of the sitting room as it is and more than likely sold to gather funds for a bill or to pay off his gambling habit, which the wife insists is the reason he was 'murdered'. Given the amount of dust around where the vases were as well as the small layer of dust coating the area where the vases had sat indicates that they hadn't sat there in quite some time. There are spots missing on the wall, signaling that something framed was there. I'm thinking they might have been art pieces, expensive as well, given what other pieces are on the walls. I'm sure those were sold as well but like the vases the wife believed they were taken as payment for her husband's gambling problem. Without having actually seen the scene or visited the house and wife, I can't say much more but I'm sure you noted the same things.

"Now, I can understand why the wife would want this to be murder. As banker and a rich man, he probably had a rather large life insurance plan. Most, if not all, life insurance policies have strict rules on the act of suicide. If he and his wife were suffering financial problems, as I'm positive they were, the money from the policy would have helped Mrs. Lawrence out of the debt her husband had left her in. Since his death was ruled a suicide, the policy is null and void. She's not going to get a penny of money from the insurance company. So she's trying to fight the obvious because she needs and wants that money that the policy offered. If she can get you to even spot one inconsistency in her husband's death that would possibly suggest a murder rather than suicide the police would be required by law to open the case again and investigate. The insurance company would be forced to open Mr. Lawrence's account until the investigation is ruled either homicide or suicide," Amber finished with a smile at him. "How did she respond when you told her you agreed with the police?"

Sherlock scoffed. "She refuses to believe me and has been sending me emails ever since. She won't stop."

"Have you tried ignoring her?" Amber asked as she shut the lid of her laptop and turned on the couch so that she was facing Sherlock fully now. When she saw that he was just kind of staring at her she figured he had tried that already and he wasn't dignifying her question with an answer. She chuckled. "Give me a minute," she mumbled softly as she once more turned to the computer, turned it back on, and waited as it powered back up from sleep mode.

When she was back on the web page she hit the respond button to the message. She wrote a very quick, to the point, and somewhat rude response that she hoped would get the point across that Sherlock was not interested in the case and that if she had any more inquiries that she should go to her local police and pester them. She added at the end that if they received any more messages they would be forced to take some form of legal action since it was now bordering on harassment.

"Done," she announced, handing over the laptop for Sherlock to inspect the message after she had sent it. "Lets hope that works and that she'll leave you alone."

"Us," Sherlock corrected. "That she'll leave _us_ alone."

"Of course, John and you work the cases," she chuckled as she was handed back the computer to set it on the table. She closed the lid once again and leaned back into the couch. She sighed in contentment, knowing that in a few short days her vacation was going to be over and she was going to be back to London. It wasn't that she wasn't looking forward to going back to London, she loved that city, it was just that the press was still hounding her. For the last month she'd had to stay inside, not just because she had been recuperating but because of the media presence. She'd even had to take down her blog because of the enormous amount of messages, good and bad, that had came flooding in following the press release from the Yard. She was hoping that this would have blown over by this point but so far it hadn't. It had lessened, yes, but it hadn't gone away.

She was happy her phone number was new and her address was unlisted. Lestrade had done what he could to stop the onslaught of unwanted attention and her family had tried to take care of the rest. That didn't mean there weren't media personal hounding her, however. There were people in the media who knew her, or of her, and they could get a hold of her if they really tried. They were trying, which was annoying Amber.

This was why she had essentially taken a sabbatical from her job. She had requested the leave from the higher ups at the Yard who had gladly given her the okay. She had been given six months to either come back to work or resign. She doubted she was going to quit, she loved working with the New Scotland Yard far too much to give it up. She'd go back to work after her six months were up and hope that this whole situation had blown over by then. She was a victim but she was also a person who deserved to be left alone. She was from a well known family but she still needed and wanted her privacy. Going back to London at the end of the week was going to be the end of that privacy, at least for a little while longer.

"Us, as in John, you, and me working the cases. You've accompanied us on other cases before while you were working with the Yard, I don't see what that would stop now that you aren't working for them," Sherlock corrected once more.

Amber smiled softly, liking that fact that he was including her in his work the same way she often included him in hers. "Sherlock, I still work for the Yard. I'm only taking a little break, that's all. I'll be back working before the year is out but for now I'd very much like working cases with you," she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. "Thank you for including me. I know you don't like having people working with you."

"You and John hardly count as a lot of people."

She laughed and shook her head. "Two's a party, three is usually a crowd. You and John are two, add me and you have three."

Sherlock made a noise she was pretty sure was a snort while she just laughed as he flopped himself back against the couch. She knew that look. She knew it all to well. He was bored and a bored Sherlock never ended quite well for any one involved. She didn't know what she could do to stop the inevitable outburst that was to come. She was just happy that he no longer tried to shoot at walls and since they were so far from their home on Baker Street it wasn't as if he could do any experiments other than social ones.

She combed through her mind trying fruitlessly to find something that could entertain him at least for a little while. She thought about turning on a movie, or a show on the telly but the bed and breakfast only had so many channels and seeing as it was nearing two in the morning she knew that nothing interesting would be on. Even the bad shows weren't being aired at that time of night. Taking him on a walk around the town was also out of the question until dawn finally rolled around, if they weren't asleep by then. They could always talk, which wasn't such a bad idea if she actually thought about it. She had plenty of things she wanted to ask him, mostly about the cases he had worked when she was laid up in the hospital and later in bed at home.

But first she had a more important question to ask. "I have a question," she started lightly, watching as his eyes flicked towards hers. His eyes even held that look that screamed he was bored out of his mind. Though as he looked at her and comprehended what she was saying the dullness in his eyes was slowly lifting, leaving the softness that always seemed to be there when he looked at her.

"Yes?"

"I talked to Thomas early today, before I went to the graveyard that is. He and Marcie have changed the date of the wedding, they're getting married on the first and they're making it a big gathering this time round. They want Bri and I to show up if she's capable of it, as well as Megan. Bri wants to go as long as I do and Megan has already said she was going. Guests are allowed and Megan has already said she was gonna bring John if he could get the day off work. Tomorrow's the RSVP date and I just wanted to know if you would be willing to come with me." She bit at her bottom lip, not sure how he would respond to being invited to a party that didn't involve a case. She thought back to Christmas and remembered he hadn't been overly fond of even a hand full of people. She wasn't sure he would handle a group of nearly five hundred very well.

"How long would we be required to be there?" he inquired.

She let out a huff of air, she hadn't known what she was expecting him to say but that sure wasn't it. Sherlock always did keep her on her toes. "I would assume my aunt and uncle would like me there from start to end. The rehearsal dinner is being held the night before the wedding and they want me there for that. Marcie wanted me in the bridal party but I declined so I had to settle for being there for everything. From start to finish. I understand if you don't want to go, I know you don't like large groups of people," she started to ramble, a nervous habit she had recently picked up. She hated feeling so insecure in herself and everything she did. She wanted her strength back, the strength that had once let her stand in front of a crowd of people and say 'screw it' before diving in and talking to everyone without worrying about offending someone. It would come with time, she knew, but not soon enough. She just had to push through and get the help she needed to heal mentally and physically. She was getting that help, but for right now the only help she needed was the support, if only silent sort, from Sherlock and her friends.

"Would I be required to talk to people?" was his next question.

Now she laughed, brightly. Again he had surprised her by not forwardly saying no to her request. "I believe that you would have to talk to people, at least those in my family. My aunt and uncle are dieing to actually meet you, Tom will want to have some words with you after learning of our engagement, and my other cousins have always taken an interest in my love life, for some odd reason. I don't think you'll be required to talk to anyone outside of that circle considering I won't know as many people there as say Tom will. I'll let you know who to talk to and who not to."

"Will I have to act...normal?" he seemed to spit out that word, as if being of average intelligence was something to be shameful of.

She once more laughed at him and reached her hand up to his cheek stroking it for a minute. "You won't have to act any different than you already are. Most of the family know of you in some manner or another, considering Tom talked about you after I was found. A few of my cousins read the papers and tabloids you landed yourself in before the fall, and after, and I believe a few used to, and still do, read John's blog. Doesn't matter really, my family is far from normal actually." She wasn't sure she could call her family normal, despite the position they held in the community.

"How about formal? Like the gala?"

"I don't know about formal. It is a wedding after all, a rather large wedding. There will be quite a few important people there, so formal would be warranted at this event. By formal it means a suit, doesn't mean a tie of any sort. Tom actually can't stand ties so I don't even think he's going to be wearing one and he's the groom. Then again Marcie might have talked him into one." For as long as she had known her cousin he had always struggled against ties. His mother, her aunt, had put him in one once for a charity event when he was seventeen and he had simply torn it off during the event. It had been hilarious until after the fact when his mother had started yelling at him when they had arrived home. Of course it had still been funny for everyone else, seeing their loveable little Tom getting yelled at for not listening to his mummy.

"How many people are attending?"

With a raised brow she just looked at him. By this point she knew he was coming, he was just enjoying the sound of her talking. She knew when she talked about family she often rambled or went on for a while. She loved her family and the more she talked about them the more Sherlock listened. She had a feeling it was due to some lack of connection within his own family. She knew he didn't get on with Mycroft very well, an issue she was hoping to learn sooner or later.

"Well?" he prompted which caused her to shake her head lightly at him.

"About five hundred as far as I know right now. Apparently, according to Tom, there was a list of over seven hundred but due to prior engagements for this time at least two hundred have had to decline. The amount could drop, there are only two weeks between now and then so we could get lucky. I doubt the number will drop below four hundred though. Of course this includes members of the family as far off as America. Then there are the children and teenagers, some of the guests are people my aunt and uncle are connected to, and others are just friends of Tom. Then there is Marcie's friends and family. Marcie's family is smaller but not by much. It would be mildly entertaining, at least for me. I know you don't like people," she teased sweetly watching him start to pout a little. "So will you go with me?"

"I don't see why not. I doubt there will be an interesting case that would keep us from going. At least I won't be bored."

"Oh, you'll get bored. Weddings are always boring until the reception. Just don't do that thing," she crinkled her nose at him.

"What thing?" he tried to sound offended and confused as to what she was saying but he knew. John was always telling him not to do it as well.

"You know, telling their life story. Some things are meant to be kept a secret, at least in this particular circle. Plus it's bad enough I was once married to a psychopath, I don't need them upset that I'm going to be marrying a genius sociopath," she kissed him lightly on the nose before getting up off the couch. "I'll call Tom and my aunt Kathy tomorrow to let them know you'll be joining me. However that doesn't help our current situation."

"Situation?" Sherlock questioned as he followed her from the living area into the kitchenette where he watched her pour water into the small electric kettle the suite offered.

Amber nodded while pressing the 'on' button of the kettle, getting two mugs and two of the tea bags from the box she had brought with her. "It's two in the morning and we're both wide awake. Plus you're bored out of your mind. What are we going to do about that?"

"I was actually going to suggest we try to get a little more sleep. You aren't completely healed and you need the rest."

She blinked in surprise before she frowned. Sherlock suggesting sleep, that was new and a little worrisome. She understood his concern for her health, she really did. He had seen her basically die after all. But for him to suggest going to sleep with her, to get more rest, he must have actually been tired as well, or faking it. "Are you sure? I know you don't actually need to sleep. Maybe we could just sit and talk, you know there are a ton of things I want to ask about the cases you and John worked while I was laid up." She grinned at him as she took the kettle off and poured the heated water into the mugs over the bags of tea. She pushed a cup at him, setting the small container of sugar with a spoon between them.

Sherlock blew off her interest in those cases quite easily. "They weren't at all interesting. Open and shut, boring and bothersome. Quick money as John would say."

She rolled her eyes, spooned a little bit of sugar into her tea, and finally took a sip. "Then sleep it is," she mumbled under her breath, inhaling the scent of the black tea in her cup. She would have loved to have a cup of one of the loose teas she had back home, but since those were a bit hard to carry with her, bagged tea was what she had to use when traveling. "Quick questions though, does John know you disappeared to follow me?"

"Yes, John is well aware that I left to follow you as was Megan."

"Who else knows I'm up here?" she questioned as she leaned on the counter, elbows on top, the cup in her hands as she sipped the hot and sweet liquid it held within.

Sherlock understood why she was asking but was annoyed with the question nonetheless. "Megan and John. No one else, as far as I am aware, knows of your whereabouts. We have all done well at keeping where you are out of the public eye."

Amber sighed, and set her glass down before rubbing her hands over her face in exasperation. "How do I get the media off my tail? I've tried a press release through the Yard, I've tried having my aunt and uncle take care of this, I've tried hiding out for a while hoping that people will get bored with me, and I keep praying that something will come up that will make my story just a little blip on the radar. So far none of that has worked at all and it's been a month since I was taken and found. I am so sick and tired of it all," she groaned out softly as she allowed her hands to drop to the counter top. She stared at her cup. "How long did it take for you to stop being hounded by the media after you returned from the dead?" she asked, hoping that maybe his past situation would give her an idea of how long hers would last and possibly a way to handle it.

"According to John I was in the media for a little over two months following me suicide. When I returned I was in the papers for a little over two weeks. People didn't seem to care much when I returned. My death was more of a sensation that my return was. The fact that you and Brianna are the only surviving victims of a brutal serial killer and the terrible fact that you were once married to him, makes it even harder for the media to let this go." He reached out and took one of her hands gently in his own. "I believe, in a case such as this, the best way to go about it is to act as if everything is normal. Ignore the press outside out flat, don't give a comment, don't let it appear as if they are bothering you."

She looked at her hand in his and then looked him in the eyes. "How can I just walk though a group of people shouting at me, shoving microphones and recorders in my face and taking pictures?"

"You could always request Lestrade to give you a police detail until the press stops their hunting of you. If anyone happens to lay a hand on you or gets too close they can be arrested for harassment," Sherlock suggested, already knowing that she would shoot down that option.

She shook her head and squeezed his hand tightly. "The Yard is already stretched thin as it is. I'm not in any actual danger so a police detail isn't quite necessary as of right now. But," an idea struck her like lightening. "A lovely little press release from the Yard, myself, and family stating that any media personal caught harassing Bri or me will be arrested and slapped with either an ASBO or restraining order. That could do the trick."

"Have you not tried that already?"

"We tried the press releases but without the threat of legal action. Most people will shy away if they learn there is a risk of legal action and even then if they don't learn only one person is needed as an example." She was actually giddy now with the idea of finally being able to get the press off her back. She didn't enjoy threatening people, even if it was just with a restraining order and trip to the Yard in handcuffs. However, in this case it was warranted and was probably the one logical way to go about dealing with her current problem. "I'll give Lestrade a call after I get a hold of Tom."

Smiling now she finished finished off her tea, which she had been steadily sipping as they had talked. After washing the mug she actually found herself yawning just a bit, fighting it as much as she could. Her nap had last a little over four hours, having fallen asleep around six and woken up at near eleven. She shouldn't still be tired, not really, but her body was still on the mend and just having spent so much time actually walking around had her stamina stretched a bit thin. She really was looking forward to being able to run every day like she used to. She hadn't realized how much she would miss exercising until she wasn't allowed to do it.

"You need sleep," Sherlock pointed out, having seen her yawn for the second time in the matter of thirty seconds.

Amber raised an eyebrow and scoffed, "I got five hours earlier and I got ten the night before."

"John said," he started watching her eyes darken behind the lens of her glasses.

"I don't care what John says or what the doctors say or what anyone says. I know I'm still on healing, I know its a long process. I just don't like being TOLD I have to do something I KNOW I need to do. It gets a little frustrating because I'm starting to feel like I'm being treated as a child instead of a full grown woman who actually understands why I need to do something. I don't need people to keep telling me Sherlock. I'm not complaining about sleeping, in fact I love sleeping, especially when you're in the bed with me," she breathed out, running a hand through her hair. Her fingers caught in the knots, which she hadn't brushed out in the last three hours that she and Sherlock had been up.

"Then shall we go to bed?" he offered, holding out his hand for her to take. He watched her give her a small smile before taking hold of his hand. They ended up snuggled in bed, Sherlock curled around Amber, both of them not so much sleeping as just laying there enjoying the quiet and the fact that they were together.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are most welcome! **

**A/N: Well what did you think? This chapter was more or less setting up for some future chapters. Kinda fluffy, kind of serious, and probably a little adorable. I don't want things to be overly serious just yet coming off of what happened at the end of "Breaking the Barrier". Things will get more serious as the story moves along but it will have a lighter feeling while still remaining rather dramatic. I have a lot planned for this story. Oh and on that note, I'm still taking mini case suggestions if you are up for it!**

**Well...that's all I really have to say today. **

**Until Sunday my lovelies!**


	3. 002

_Happy Sunday everyone. Hope everyone in the US had a happy 4th of July. Here is the chapter, enjoy!_

**_Empress of Verace: _**_Ah, but the question is, will legal action work? Oh I'm enjoying all the ideas I have for Sherlock at the wedding. I haven't decided exactly how he's going to react and if he will keep his mouth shut or not lol. But knowing Sherlock, he won't and then drama will ensue! You're welcome for the update and enjoy the chapter!_

_**Gwilwillith: **I am happy to hear you love Amberlock! And thank you, hope you enjoy this chapter :)  
_

**_Loki'sdreamer: _**_Oh yes, Sherlock at a wedding, be it his own or someone elses, that should be interesting lol. Enjoy the chapter!_

**_skidney:_**_ Thank you and enjoy this one!_

**_KijoKuroi: _**_I am really glad to hear you weren't disappointed by that chapter. I have actually gotten a few ideas for Criminal Minds, at least ones I can use loosely for later cases. I've also got a few ideas for other sources that I might twist into a modern day kind of case. I just hope they work out as I want them to. Hope you enjoy the chapter!__  
_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I only own Amber, Megan, the animals and of course the plot as well as everything else you don't recognise from the show!_

* * *

**[002]**

In the back of the cab on the return trip from Heathrow to Baker Street, Amber and Sherlock sat in a comfortable silence. Their hands were intertwined and her head was leaning on his shoulder as she thought about the events of the previous three days. They had been interesting to say the least, considering for three days she had had to find ways to entertain Sherlock as he grew every so bored without a case to work. Her vacation had turned into an exercise of patience. She had learned, much to her surprise, that her patience never ran thin when it came to Sherlock Holmes, at least not any more. When she had first met him she had hated when he became bored, at one point even wanting to go so far as to bash him in the head with his beloved skull just to shut him the hell up. Now, seven months later, she didn't want to hit him over the head. She would simply just roll her eyes, laugh lightly, and shake her head leaving him wondering why she was smiling at him in exasperation. It might have been because she loved him or maybe she had learned she was just as annoying when she became bored, or so John had told her days before her trip to Scotland.

She had decided the following morning after having tried in vain to find him a case to work that she was going to take him for a trip around the town. He hadn't commented on much at first. He had listened to her ramble about it's history, the people she remembered, and the stories of growing up there. About halfway through the walk he had starting making little comments, going so far as to read the life story of people walking around them. It had made her laugh so much that she had to actually stop walking at one point because her ribs had started to hurt.

She took him to a little cafe for breakfast, a bistro for lunch, and finally Sherlock had suggested a small intimate restaurant they had passed earlier that day for dinner. At that she had raised a brow in question to which he had simple responded with a snort like noise. She knew why he had suggested a dinner than didn't involve takeaway. He hadn't eaten much for either breakfast or lunch, something he knew annoyed her since he wasn't working a case, and was trying to make up for it by actually eating something for dinner. The evening had been followed up with crap telly and Sherlock telling her about some of his most earliest cases, including that of Carl Powers and how, after so long, he had finally solved the case. He had talked long into the night until finally Amber had fallen asleep, her head on his lap while sitting on the couch. She had woken in Sherlock's arms in bed the following morning, not recalling how she had gotten there in the first placing but knowing that Sherlock had carried her. It made her feel all warm inside and brought her so much joy.

After a breakfast of whatever she could make from the contents of the fridge, she had taken him into Edinburgh where she had done some shopping, mostly for Brianna since her older sister was pretty much left with nothing. Everyone had long ago thought the same fate had befallen her as that of her sister Kelly and most, if not all, of her things had been donated or thrown out. She felt guilty about it now, knowing that she had been alive that whole time. She had also picked up a few little gifts for everyone she knew, something small that would easily fit in her suitcase without causing to much added weight. She had found a gorgeous dress for her cousin's wedding. It was a little bright, and possible a show stealer, but given that this was the first family, or mostly family, gathering she had been to in years, she was more than willing to be a little out there. She had insisted that they find Sherlock a suit, a tailored one nonetheless. He had harped on the matter until finally she had thrown in the towel telling him that once they got back to London she was taking him to be fitted for a suit and that if didn't want to pay for it than she was going to do so whether he liked it or not.

That night had ended in the same manner of the night before, except dinner had been takeaway which they had eaten in the living room while talking about this and that, Amber even occasionally bringing up the wedding in two weeks. He still grumbled about needing a new suit, telling her that he still had the new jacket and trousers that he had been forced to purchase for the gala. She had pointed out that while he had looked quite handsome, several people from that gala would be attending the wedding. He had just stared at her until she had explained why that mattered. He had argued and made several rude comments on how it didn't matter what he wore, until she had changed the subject to something less argumentative. In the end she had taken pain medication to dull the throbbing in her bones, muscles, and head and fell into bed while Sherlock found other ways to entertain himself before finally heading to bed with her.

Their last day was spent doing separate things. Sherlock, being the man that he was, went into Edinburgh to investigate the local university, probably to try to do an experiment to keep from being bored, while Amber had taken a cab up to her family's property. She hadn't visited her family home in all the time since her parents' deaths, or rather since gathering her childhood belongings after their death. Her parents had been killed in that house, a fact that still made her nervous to that day. No matter how well the cleaners did on getting rid of the blood and evidence of the violent crime, it was as if the horrible events still lingered, ghosts of the past screaming their story. It always bothered her, being in that house, after her mother and father's death. But she wanted to go back now, put the ghosts to rest. Though the killer was never caught, something she knew probably would never happen, her sister was found, her other siblings put to rest, and she was starting down a new path. The past belonged just where it was, in the past, and that house was a part of that past and maybe a part of her future. There was so much she could do, having been made the owner of the house when her sisters' refused to take the deed. She could sell the house, rent it out, or tear it down. She could turn it into a summer home, a place to go when she needed a break from the city. The thing was, she didn't know if that was what she wanted. Any of it.

So she had simply visited her childhood home, or at least the home she had started to grow up in. She walked the grounds, through the over grown garden which had been starting bloom. It was so wild and untamed, so different than how she had always remembered it. She had let herself into the house, finding the old key in a very hard to find pigeonhole. She had been surprised she had even been able to find it and that it was still there, the key that was. She had walked around hoping that the place would still smell like home, but unlike all those novels she read about people coming home decades later to still smell the scents of their youth, all she could smell was the stale air of a house unused. She smelled the dust as she had walked through the halls to the rooms.

She took that time, had allowed herself to remember the fond memories. She remembered the first morning she had gone running with her sisters, the time her brother had taught her how to pillow surf down the stairs WITHOUT hurting herself. She thought of all the times the four of them had gotten in trouble, the smacks and shouts and timeouts. The laughter when they conspired to get out of trouble, the yelling amongst themselves and the fact that each of them, if given a choice, would betray the other just to be able to have ice cream for dessert. She remembered the tears they cried over the little things, over not getting what they wanted. The memories had come flooding to the forefront of her mind and they made her smile...at first.

Before long the memories turned into those of horror. The sound of her sisters' screaming for their brother to keep Amber outside, the sound of her brother yelling at her to stay put, and the fear of getting in trouble for not doing what he said which had rooted her to the porch. She saw the shock and horror on all their faces when they came out of the house and wrapped her so tightly in a hug she thought she was going to die from lack of oxygen. She heard the phone call her brother had made, the tears and sobs of her sisters' as they held one another while still kneeling on the ground wrapping Amber in their arms. She could see herself, a tiny thing of a girl, all red hair and large green eyes, asking what happened and why they were crying. She called for their father and mother only for the twins to wail harder and hold her tighter. She watched her strong older brother cry, hold onto each of them until the sounds of sirens came screaming down the road. She remembered learning what had happened on the way to the police station. Remembered days later returning to the house, grieving for a loss that should not have happened. She remembered gathering her things, boxing them up, being ushered out of the house by her aunt and uncle as fast as they could.

It had all been like watching a movie, a movie she had lived, a movie that at times she missed. It was a movie she could no longer live but one she could always revisit, leaving behind the parts she didn't dare to remember.

She had smiled softly, and slightly sadly, as she finally wandered into her old bedroom. The walls were painted a bright purple, her favorite colour at the time and still a favorite of hers now. The walls were bare, all her posters and pictures having been taken down years ago. All her things were gone, had been for so long. The bed sat empty against the wall, abandoned and unused. The rug she had made her parents buy her because she loved it so much, sat on the floor, a small layer of dust coating it turning the vibrant colours dull and lifeless. She had simply shook her head as she left, moved to her siblings' rooms finding the same thing. Abandoned space.

She had stopped in front of her parents' room. She knew what lay in that room, all their things left because no one was sure what to do with it, not even her aunt and uncle. She hadn't dared enter that room, hadn't even dared to peak in knowing the last minutes of her mother's life had been spent in the room. She had always by-passed the office space, the place her father had been killed, but lingered in the kitchen and dinning room before she finally had left the house, walking down the drive her phone in hand as she called a cab. She had sat on the curb until her ride had arrived, the memories still swirling in her mind.

Back at the bed and breakfast she hadn't talked to Sherlock about her adventure in her old home, at least not until later that night after they had gone to dinner but before returning for a night of movies and talking once again until they remembered they needed to pack for the flight home the following morning.

That had lead them to where they were now, sitting in the back of a cab which was now pulling up to 221B Baker Street on a bleak spring morning. They exited the cab with payment to the cabbie before Sherlock pulled both suitcases from the boot while Amber grabbed her overstuffed carry-on from the backseat. She was happy that Sherlock had more than enough room in his own suitcase to accommodate some of her things to make room for everything she had bought in her own.

She thanked him with a kiss on the back of his hand after he had reached for the carry-on as that was draped over her shoulder. "We're not that far from the door, I can make it with the bag. Trust me," she smiled up to him as she linked her fingers with his for a moment, her left in his right. He stared down at their joined hands, catching sight of that ring once again, as he had noticed he had done a lot the last three days.

Letting go of his hand, she allowed him to take both suitcases and wheel them to the front door. She slipped her key into the lock, opening the door before stepping back so he could enter first with the heavier load. She followed behind him, closing the door and locking it behind her, a habit she had most certainly picked up in the past few months. She would never leave her door unlocked, even when she was simply going upstairs for an extended amount of time. She just didn't feel safe without doors being locked.

"Mrs. Hudson," Amber called lightly from as she dropped her carry-on to the floor in order to slip out of her coat. Sherlock had taken the suitcases in the direction of her flat. He turned to he expectantly, his hand held out. She tossed him her key ring and watched as he headed for her flat. "We're home," she added hoping that if anyone was in the building they might come and greet them.

After five more minutes without a response, Amber followed in Sherlock's footsteps and headed for her flat wondering where everyone was at the moment. She knew John wasn't scheduled to work and Megan had a late shift at the hospital. As far as she could recall Mrs. Hudson hadn't had anything planned, then again plans could change. They could have been visiting Bri in the hospital, she was due to be released in two days after all. There were so many things they could be doing, especially now that they were free of their police details and didn't have to worry about a madman chasing after them.

She smiled softly to herself as she sat herself on the couch where she started to take off her boots. She could hear Sherlock puttering around the bathroom and her bedroom where he was putting away some of her things. She hadn't yet told him that Bri would be moving into the flat and taking the bedroom, at least until Bri was back completely on her feet and able to work and find a place of her own.

Amber hadn't gotten a chance to mention that particular fact to Sherlock, but she knew what he would offer and that would be a place in his room. She wouldn't turn him down but for a while she would decline, knowing that Bri wouldn't be comfortable on her own for quite some time to come. She'd sleep on the couch for a while, if only to make sure her older sister was okay. She knew that the older woman was going to wake with nightmares and being alone wasn't a very good idea when those nightmares struck. She herself had woken in the hospital after many nightmares alone and scared until she had convinced the nurses and doctors to allow either Sherlock, John, or Megan to stay in her room at night. Having someone there helped her more than she cared to admit and she wanted to be there for her sister when things got scary. Being home, with those who cared for you, after three years of captivity wasn't going to be easy and she owed it to Bri to be there.

Drawing her from her thoughts was Nix, her cat. She picked up the animal and cuddled her tightly to her chest, burying her face in the soft fur of the cat's neck. "Hello there," she whispered after removing her face from the fur. She set the animal in her lap and scratched the cat's ears lightly, feeling her begin to purr at the loveing. After a couple of licks Nix jumped off her lap and scurried off in the direction of the food bowl.

Laughing softly to herself, she got up and went to the hutch in the corner of the room to give her other pet a little attention. The little ginger rabbit hopped out of the cage and began to nuzzle her feet. Amber carefully picked her up and greeted her with a smile and some scratches before gently placing her back in the hutch. She promised herself she would play with both little creatures when she finally got home to stay. Right now she had some other things to see to.

"It appears no one is home," Amber said as she grabbed up her boots and headed in the direction of her bedroom where she found Sherlock putting away her undergarments. She felt her cheeks heat up as she dropped her shoes and rushed forward to grab the articles of clothing from his hands, shoving them unceremoniously into the drawer before slamming it closed. Mildly embarrassed she tried to flash Sherlock a smile but didn't really succeed.

"Um," she started awkwardly as he stared down at her, a look of confusion and thought on his face. "It was nice of you to unpack my things but you really didn't have to," she finally managed to mutter out as she headed for the now empty suitcase on her bed. Sherlock's bag was now stowed against a wall. "You should go upstairs and unpack, I need to go visit Bri and see how she's doing."

"Where will Brianna be staying after her release from the hospital?" he asked kindly as he grabbed his suitcase while she slipped her feet into a pair of flats. He would contemplate the reasons behind her reaction to seeing him handling her clothing later.

"She's going to stay here for now. I'm going to take the couch," she stated, happy that it had been Sherlock to bring up the topic instead of herself. At least they weren't talking about her knickers.

Sherlock thought on it for a moment. "You should move up into my flat for the time being then. With the injuries you sustained, I don't think it would be a wise idea for you to sleep on the couch."

Smiling, she grabbed her keys off the table where Sherlock had tossed them before she ushered him out the door and up the stairs, barely to lock the door behind her. "I'm perfectly fine to sleep on a couch."

"You had four broken ribs, two fractured ones, internal bleeding which required major surgery to stop, a severe concussion, a punctured lung, and a collapsed lung. Not to mention deep bruises on your hip, a cracked brow bone and cheek bone. While your stitches have been removed, your concussion gone, and your bones and lungs healed, your ribs are not yet fully healed. You still favor your left side, where the brunt of the beating occurred, which is also the side you tend to sleep on. You limp just slightly when you've walked for long periods of time. Your couch would not be conducive for sleep at least not comfortable sleep," he explained hoping that she would see his point.

He watched as she walked up to him, smiling. Even though she was smiling, her eyes held a little bit of the pain and fear that came with hearing her injuries listed out in such a cool manner. He wasn't trying to remind her of what happened last month, just trying to remind her simply that she was still healing and a soft bed, not a couch, was what she needed.

Sherlock felt her hand press lightly on his cheek as she stood before him looking up into his eyes. "Sherlock, remember when you started spending not only your days in the hospital with me, well the days you weren't working horrid little cases, and then you started sleeping there? Remember the reason I needed someone there with me?"

He nodded and said, "You had nightmares." He now brought his own hand up to the side of her face, brushing her hair off her cheek. If they were under the proper light he could still make out the bruise on her cheek bone, as faint as it now was.

"Brianna is going to be having nightmares. The nurses told me that she won't sleep with the lights out, that she can barely even sleep without the help of medication. She's scared and scarred. She needs someone here at night, until the nightmares start to go away. She's wasn't as lucky as me, so much worse happened to her in that three year time frame. She's got a lot to work through and I'm her sister. She needs me down here with her when she wakes in the middle of the night screaming in terror because she thinks it's still happening. She'll heal with time and when that happens, I'll move upstairs into your room until I get my flat back," she explained gently, rubbing his cheek a little with her thumb. "We've all got wounds from this Sherlock, we've all got to heal, no one more than Brianna."

He could only look at her, knowing that for however long Brianna needed her, Amber would be there. There was nothing he could say or do to prevent that. She wasn't going to warm his bed and keep him company at night. It hurt, knowing that she wasn't going to be there in the middle of the night when he woke because he wasn't tired any longer. For however long she slept on the couch he wouldn't feel her reaching out for him in the middle of the night when he rolled over or feel her push at him when he sprawled across the bed taking up most of the space. It shouldn't hurt, in fact he should have been a little excited to have his bed back, but it did hurt and made him sad.

Having sensed the shift in his emotions, she sighed and brought her other hand up. Cradling his face in her hands, she leaned up and kissed him ever so gently. "Don't look like that. It's not as if this is a permanent thing Sherlock. I'll have Meg spend some nights in the flat with Bri and then if we work cases out of town I'll be there with you. It's not like we won't be sharing a bed for months. You could always wander downstairs and curl up on the couch with me," she suggested lightly.

Sherlock smiled now. There had been one time when the two of them had fallen asleep on her couch. It had been just after Christmas and they had been watching old movies, just relaxing because there was nothing else to do and he had been bored and Amber had been tired. They had fallen asleep by accident only to wake up the next morning, the two of them somehow managing to stay on the couch. It had actually been quite comfortable seeing as her couch was large enough to house to two of them.

He nodded once, seeing a spark of relief flash through Amber's eyes. "Would you like me to go with you to the hospital?"

Amber shook her head now. "No," she removed her hands from his face only to take one of his hands gently in hers. "I think Bri might not be overly excited to see a man right now. You and John might have saved her but she's a little skittish around men, which is very understandable given the circumstances. However," she gave him a flirty smile. "You can escort me to the hospital if you want to," she suggested, all the more reason to hold his hand.

Sherlock's eyes twinkled as he countered, "I thought you said you were tired of escorts." He had gotten used to her flirting and had learned how to flirt back mildly.

"Oh, I'm tired of them being forced one me but I've asked you," she chuckled before releasing his hand to go for her coat on the rack. "But seeing as you are currently wheeling a suitcase behind you, I think you might just want to go put that all away while I head to visit Bri. On the plus side if anyone comes home you can let them know we've made it in one piece," she added smoothly, trying not to sound overly annoyed. One of the things that had started happening was people, well everyone she was close to, wanted to know if she had made it wherever she was going in one piece. If she didn't call than someone called her. It had gotten a little out of hand and she was praying that it stopped, and soon. She was not a child and she did not have to check in whenever she went somewhere. She had no curfew and no one told her where to go. If that ever happened she would do something she rarely did, she would hit them...and she would hit them hard. No one controlled her.

Just as she was turning around to head for the front door, Sherlock grabbed for her wrist which pulled her back to him, although he tried to do it gently so as not to hurt her. He wrapped her in his arms for a moment before leaning down and giving her a deep kiss. No one was around to see the display of their love, just themselves and the old building they lived within. But it came as no surprise that when Amber had finally gotten over her surprise and wrapped her own arms around his neck and tugged him closer to her body, that the front door opened revealing the smiling and giggle forms of their friends.

However, being in the heat of a moment, neither of them quite stopped the kiss from going just a little bit deeper. It was the clearing of a throat followed by an unearthly squeal that had Amber jumping back from Sherlock, nearly falling over if it weren't for him managing to keep her steady on her feet.

"What the hell?" she ground out, her cheeks flaring brighter than her hair as she realized what they had been caught doing in the foyer. They had been attached at the lips like a couple of teenagers. That in and of itself was embarrassing, but the fact that neither of them had registered the entrance of John and Megan was what made it that much worse. Sherlock was the one for maintaining a rather aloof demeanor in their relationship when others were around. He was the first one to realize when someone had entered the room, the first to pull away or put her a little farther away. She was the one who would reach out for him, the one who broke the distance and made him touch her in public but never would they be caught snogging. They both had agreed long ago that they didn't want to be 'that couple'.

"Why did you squeal?" she finally asked, a little more calm as she ran her left hand through her hair, failing to notice Megan's eyes glued to the ring on her finger. While Amber was not quite used to wearing the ring, it had become a regular fixture over the last four days that she didn't notice it as she would have that first days it adorned her finger.

"You're wearing a ring!" Megan screamed out, rushing forward in the direction of the tussled redhead.

Amber squeaked, darted behind Sherlock and ran for the door getting no resistance for John as she shouted over her shoulder, "Love you Sherlock! See you later!" She rushed down the street, her coat bellowing out behind her.

Sherlock simply shook his head, a tiny laugh escaping his lips before finding that he had two sets of eyes staring at him as if waiting for some kind of answer. "What?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

"She's wearing a diamond ring," John pointed out, motioning to the door Amber had just rushed out of before shutting it. "Care to explain why she's wearing a diamond ring?"

"I do not," Sherlock answered simply, taking hold of his suitcase and heading for the stairs.

"Oh no you don't," John said as he followed after Sherlock, Megan right on their heels. "You leave for nearly four days and she comes back with what appears to be a very expensive diamond engagement ring on her finger. You owe us an explanation."

"Or at least you owe me one," Megan added. "I'm her best friend."

"I do not owe either of you an explanation as to why she's wearing my grandmother's ring," he let slip in his frustration, growling at his spoken mistake. That was only going to add some fuel to the fires, unfortunately. "That is between the two of us and we will discuss it with the two of you when we are ready."

"Your grandmother's ring? You asked her to marry you, didn't you?" Megan inquired as she attempted to block his path to their front door. Thankfully by coincidence, or because Megan was a bit dense at times, she forgot about the door leading in through the kitchen, which Sherlock managed to slip through causing the woman to give off a squeal of annoyance at being outfoxed. John just laughed until Sherlock heard a small thump and then an 'ow'.

"When did you ask her to marry you? She wasn't wearing that ring when she left," Megan hounded after him as he entered his room to put his things away.

"As I have stated, it is none of your concern," he tried once more to get her to shut up but she only started to ask more questions. It wasn't until Sherlock had given a pointed look to John did the army doctor finally drag his dark haired girlfriend from the bedroom, all the while she was ranting and throwing questions out.

Sherlock finally managed to get his door shut, locking it for safe measure, and sat himself on the edge of his bed just as his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw the text from Amber.

**Escaped the hound yet? -AD**

**For now. Appears hounds come in all shapes and sizes. -SH**

He joked, remembering that he had told her of the case with the hound in Dartmoor.

**Be careful. Once her claws are in she never leaves. -AD**

**I think I can managed. -SH**

**We'll see about that, lol. -AD**

Sherlock rolled his eyes, knowing that she was teasing him even though she wasn't there.

**Getting on tube. I'll call later. -AD**

**Okay. -SH**

With that he laid back on the bed until he heard John shout from the living room, "I think we've got a case!" He was on his feet and out his bedroom door before John had even finished his statement.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome!  
**

**A/N: Well this chapter was almost late, to be honest. I got so sucked up in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, I forgot to beta through this until right before I posted. I seriously need to get my priorities straight lol. But on a different note for all of those who are a fan of LOTR, I am now part of that fandom and have to chase around a very persistent plot bunny who is screaming random ideas in my head!(more on that if you really want to know, PM if you want or whatever!)**

**Okay, about this chapter though, what did you think? It's kind of a little fluffy and will finally be leading into the events/cases/problems in this story. So we won't be seeing an overly abundant mention of the events from "Breaking the Barrier", just little hints of it when Amber is talking with Brianna or things like that. I will be doing some flashbacks, hopefully, to the month where Amber was recovering to give a little insight into how everyone dealt with that, but those will spaced out through the first half of the story and nothing to angsty. I have so much planned for this story, it's just like bursting in my mind! **

**As always, I hope everyone was in character, especially Sherlock. He's so hard to write, especially when he's in love but still needs to be 'Sherlock' and not go all OOC. So please let me know if anything goes wrong or I write him oddly in fluffy chapters!**

**Until next time my lovelies!**


	4. 003

_Welcome to Wednesday everyone. Today's chapter is brought to you by an all nighter, several cups of coffee, and the full soundtrack to The Hobbit. Thus is the life of an fandom obsessed insomniac writer lol. _

_**Empress of Verace: **Oh Megan's 'interrogation' was not meant to be scary, more funny because she's not an overly scary person under normal circumstances like this. Ah, the suit, there will be an interesting scene about that later on. Enjoy the update!  
_

**_Loki'sdreamer:_**_ Well if it helps any don't so much think of this as a different story, just kind of think of it as a continuation of the other story. I'm kind of guilty of doing that. Yeah it takes some getting used to, Sherlock being emotional that is, at least with Amber he will be. Hope you enjoy the update!_

**_Gwilwillith: _**_Thank you so much! Yay, I'm glad to hear that there's another LotR lover reading this. I've got a ton of ideas right now, some of which I'm not too sure about and I kinda think I might need some actual help with that particular fandom. Would you mind terribly if I PMed you? I don't really know too many people who are fans of LotR (online or in person). Anyways, enjoy the chapter!_

**_skidney: _**_Thank you and enjoy!_

**_lightsabove:_**_ Thank you as well and I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Sherlock, only Amber and Megan and Brianna, and anything else you don't recognize._

* * *

**[003]**

Walking into the hospital, Amber felt her chest constrict with fear for a split second. This phenomenon was not unknown to her, not in the slightest. She had grown used to feeling the fear hitch in her stomach as those sliding glass doors opened right before stepping across the threshold. She supposed it was from her own ordeal, knowing that there had been that slim chance she wouldn't have actually walked back out. Death didn't scare her, leaving behind those she loved did. Now, she braved that little niggle of fear as she greeted the nurses at the desk on her way up to visit Brianna.

The walk through the hospital halls was far less traumatizing than walking through the front doors. There were a couple of nurses, ones with whom Megan worked and knew Amber's name, who greeted her as she headed for her sister's room. She stopped to chat with one or two of them, asking how her sister was handling everything, especially since she was due for release in a little under two days. She was given a positive report which made her smile as she thanked them and continued on her way.

When she reached the room, the door slightly ajar, she knocked twice and waited for the response to come from within. It did. Amber walked in, closing the door ever so slightly behind her but not all the way. Bri had a thing about doors being fully closed. She wanted to know that she had a route of escape if anything happened, at least that was what the woman had claimed when she had panicked the first few times her door had ever been shut. Those event had occurred when Amber had still been recovering herself and they had to be related back to her by Megan. While Amber didn't fear doors being closed, she had jumped a little the first few times she had heard the click or slam of a door after she had woken up. It was a fear reflex, that with time, would fade away, just like her still constant urge to look behind her.

"Hey Bri," the redhead said seeing her sister sitting up in her bed, dressed in her pajamas, having long ago given up one wearing hospital gowns.

Bri looked so much better than when she had first been brought in. She no longer looked like she would break if she stood in the wind. She had gained weight but still needed to gain a little more, and would do so over the next few months. Her eyes no longer held the dark rings signaling the lack of sleep and abuse. The bruises had faded, still slightly there if looked at under the proper light. Her pale green eyes were shinning instead of looking dull and flat. Her hair was clean and vibrant once more, still short but with her fuller face the cut seemed to fit the woman, though Amber knew that she would grow her hair out once more. She just looked...healthier and a hell of a lot more happy.

"Hey yourself birthday girl," the older of the two laughed lightly, her voice finally back to normal after weeks of sounding rough. "I can't believe you ran off like that back to Scotland. How can you even stand to be in that place?" Bri shuddered at what Amber supposed was the memories of her family and the events leading to their demise. Her sisters had always made it clear they didn't enjoy going home.

Slipping out of her coat, she tossed it over the back of the chair which sat near the bed and took a seat. "That place is where we were born and were we'll be buried one day. It's where Kelly and Sean are buried. I go because I want to and to visit their graves, a thing I would hazard a guess you hadn't done long before Scot got his hands on you," she said, watching as the girl flinched but not nearly as much as she had the first few days after her rescue. Amber saw that as a very good sign. The topic could not be thrown away and forgotten. If they tried to do that the wounds would never heal and that was why she brought it up.

"It just feels so cold there, seeing those stones with their names carved into them. They should be alive," the woman muttered sadly, her anger having long ago been left in front of those graves. "Doesn't mean I don't love them nor that I'm abandoning them. I just never liked going there."

Amber, wanting to change the subject because she could see the pain in her sister's eyes, smiled ever so gently. "So you're getting out in two days. Are you excited?"

"Scared," Bri admitted for the first time. "It's been three years, a very long three years."

"'Course it has," Amber agreed, not fully understanding, but able to feel a little of what her sister was feeling considering she had to live with not knowing the fate of Bri for all those years. "But you've got people here for you and you're coming home with me."

Bri gave a light laugh and a half crooked smile. "You've got a one bedroom flat, what are you going to do? Sleep in bed with me?"

"No," Amber shook her head as she spoke, giving a similar half smile. "I'm going to take the couch until you're alright with me moving up into Sherlock's room until you get back on your feet." She held up her hand before her sister could protest. "There isn't anything you can say or do that will make me change my mind. I know Megan has offered you her spare room but since she's either working or at 221B, you'd be alone most of the time. That is something you don't need right now. The best place for you to stay, until you are ready to be alone, is in my flat. Someone is always home. If none of us are, usually Mrs. Hudson is there."

"But what about when you have to work or you take a case with Sherlock and John?" the woman countered.

Amber chuckled softly. "The only work I have to do for the next six months is keep Sherlock from becoming overly bored and annoying. As for the cases," she raised her hand to run it through her hair. "If Sherlock, John, and I need to head out of the city Mrs. Hudson or Megan will be there for you if need be. I'm a phone call and text away. Always."

For a moment Bri stared at her in silence, which confused and worried Amber. It wasn't more than a minute later that Amber realized why her sister was silent. She had noticed, just like Megan and John had earlier in the foyer of the flat, the damned ring on her finger. It seemed like this was going to be a very long day with a lot of explaining to do.

"Go on, ask. You wouldn't be the first to spot it," she tried to joke but for some strange reason her jaw tensed. An odd reaction to a question that hadn't yet been asked.

"He asked you to marry him?" Bri spit out bluntly.

Amber's jaw clenched even tighter at the tone used by her sister. It was an almost disappointed tone, usually the one a parent would use when a child had done something they shouldn't have, or answered a question wrong when they knew the proper answer to begin with.

"Yes, is there a problem?" her question came out harsher than intended.

Bri, a little taken aback at the tone of voice, furrowed her brows. "No, just a little confused is all. Meg said that you and Sherlock have only been dating for around six, maybe seven months now. Isn't that a little early to be thinking of marriage?"

Amber had a flash of the moment in the graveyard, having said the same thing to Sherlock, and now she smirked. The tension was gone. Bri wasn't disappointed, she was confused and probably a little frightened that her little sister was moving so fast with a man she had know for seven months now. Given how the last marriage had turned out, that was a reasonable response if ever she could think of one. So she laughed.

"I wasn't lying about loving Sherlock and him loving me. I've come to realize that I love him more than anything really. The feeling is more intense than it ever had been with Scot and why shouldn't I marry him if he makes me feel so...loved," she finished lamely but with a laugh.

Bri smiled now, having seen the flush and glow on Amber's face, she knew that Sherlock wasn't going to be an accident. Amber had never looked that way when talking about Scot in the past, which should have been an indication of the soon-to-fail marriage. "I'm happy for you Am, I just worry."

"Everyone worries but this isn't the same," she stated simply, knowing that her sister would understand as would her whole family.

"While you were gone Megan showed me the papers, the articles, the press releases about Sherlock Holmes. I'm not saying anything bad, I'm just..." Bri thought for a moment, nervousness written all across her face. "It's just he seems to crave chaos. She told me about his habit when he's bored, shooting at walls, screaming, and smoking. I worry that without a case revolving around you that he'll wander away from you, that you'll get hurt when he loses interest."

Amber chuckled so softly it was barely audible above the sounds of the hospital beyond the door and the noise of the street below. "He won't lose interest, trust me Brianna."

"How do you know that for sure?"

She sighed now, rubbed at her forehead before going to push her glasses off her face and back into her hair. "There was a month or so, back around Christmas when there was nothing to do. No headway in my case, no offer of cases from others, not work from the police. Just utter boredom, for him at least. I still had work to keep me entertained. Criminals never stop," she laughed, making her sister smile. "But Sherlock, he was so bored. I'd come home and he'd be curled on his couch in a ball muttering about his brain decaying because he had nothing to do. John had been at his wits end but thankful I had helped Sherlock quit smoking and that his gun had 'gone missing'," she finger quoted with a grin. "I was the only one who could pull him out of his stupor."

"How?" Bri was now staring at her sister, seeing the spark just there, the fierce emotions and the love of talking about Sherlock. So much love in those eyes and it made her so happy to see her sister so lost in someone else.

The smile that blossomed on Amber's face was so wide and impish now. "I'd take his hand, pull him off the couch and bring him downstairs. John and Megan, at first, thought that we were doing other things in my flat," she grinned widened just a bit. "We didn't tell them different to begin with but we never did anything. I'd sit him in front of the telly and we'd watch crap shows while curled on the couch. We'd laugh at them, yell at them, and that would make him calm down enough that he wasn't overly bored. If that didn't work I'd read to him, even books I knew he was going to try to rip apart with his damn deductions. He never really said anything, but I knew he enjoyed listening to me talk. John told me once, when I managed to get a second alone with him, that Sherlock said there was something about how I spoke, that the lilting of my accent and the cadence of my voice was like when he played the violin, it was soft and soothing. I think it might have just been John exaggerating a little on what Sherlock said, but I don't really know because I wasn't there. All I know is that when I talk a lot Sherlock just shuts up. He listens intently even when I know he shouldn't be interested in what I'm saying, even when I'm just rambling on. He listens and it's wonderful."

Bri sighed longingly, wishing that she had someone in her life or the male variety who would pay that much attention to her. "Scot," she choked on the name before controlling herself. "He said he knew you'd gotten around. He said you and Sherlock,"

Amber cut her off with a sharp glance, "Scot was, is, a liar. I've never slept with another man besides that bastard. Sherlock and I," she blushed brightly, feeling the warmth grow in her cheeks and ears. She wasn't usually one to blush when talking about this particular topic, but this was her sister and she had always blushed when the twins had brought up sex. She barely even blushed around Sherlock when they had talked, or rather skirted around the topic. "We're not there yet."

"Seven months and you've not once slept with him?" Bri was astounded at learning this fact. She had known that Amber wasn't much for sleeping with men unless she loved them. She had been adamant about that long ago. It was just how Amber was. She clearly loved Sherlock, so why was the question on her mind even if she didn't ask it out loud.

"Not once, not for lack of wanting to actually," she huffed finally, still a little uncomfortable with the topic but happy to finally have her sister to talk to. "There just wasn't time for it really. Sherlock is a hard man to get to know, there's still a lot about his family I don't yet know. Besides that, these last seven months have been getting to know who he IS, not where he comes from. There were moments when we could have, when I wanted to, when I'm sure he wanted to given the state of him, but we just never did. It wasn't the right moment."

She nodded lightly in understanding. "Will you wait until after you're married?"

Amber blinked, having not really thought about it. Now that she was thinking of it, she hoped she didn't have to wait THAT long. Knowing the two of them, the engagement was going to be a rather long one, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to wait that long. Sherlock could, she knew that much, but she was far more in touch with the physical aspect of a relationship that he was. She would get to the point where she craved that closeness. "I sure hope not," she chuckled out. "But I'll deal with that bridge when I cross it."

They both gave a little laugh before silence took them. Three years left them with so much to talk about, at least on Amber's part. Yet there they sat, not sure what to say to one another. Sisters though they were, time came between that bond and eroded it away until they were left unsure of how to deal with the other.

The sound of Amber's phone ringing caused Bri to jump a little in her spot, even going so far as to startle Amber just a bit. She turned to search through her coat, pulling out the phone just as it stopped ringing. "Sherlock," she explained, hitting the dismiss button on the missed call screen. Her phone beeped with an incoming text just as she was getting ready to put it in her pocket.

**We've got a case, come home. -SH**

**Kinda busy Sherlock. -AD**

Amber shook her head as she set the phone on her leg looking up to her sister. "Sorry about that. He can be a bit demanding at moments."

"What does he want?" Bri cocked her head to the side.

Her phone beeped again.

**Interesting case. -SH**

She ignored it. "A case, apparently, has shown up."

"You should go then," Bri offered.

She looked at her sister dead in the eyes. "I am not going to leave you to go gallivanting off with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They are adults and are more than capable of taking care of whatever this is on their own. They did it for over a year and a half before I came along and they can do with another day. Sherlock just likes to show off for me."

Bri smiled at first only to frown when Amber's phone beeped yet again. That caused the younger of the two to sigh and pinch the bridge of her nose tightly. She looked at the phone anyway.

**2 victims, same method and time, two separate parts of the city. Interesting enough to come? -SH**

That did catch Amber's attention, more than she wanted it too. How could two crimes be committed at the same time with the same method in two very different parts of the city? She knew it was possible that there were two different killers working together and this was a ploy to distract the police but if Sherlock was interested in the case than something odd must have been going on. Sherlock wasn't usually one to take the boring cases. All his cases always interested him at first, some just happened to be easier to solve than other and therefore were boring when they were over.

"You seem to be a bit distracted, everything alright with the case?" Bri teased lightly, already knowing the answer.

"Um," Amber hit the ignore button. "Everything is fine. He's trying to interest me in the case," she rolled her eyes."

"What did he say?"

"Basically two murders, same method of murder at the same time in different parts of the city. I'm assuming the parts of the city are some distance apart," Amber explained keeping a close eye on her sister to make sure the mention of murder didn't upset her. When she saw no visible reaction she allowed her gaze to slip to her phone which had just let off a beep.

**I can come collect you if you wish. -SH**

"Go on. Go," Bri urged. "I can see it written all over your face that you want to go. Who am I to keep you from it."

Feeling a little bit guilty she texted Sherlock back telling him she'd be home as soon as possible. Once she sent it off she put the phone in her pocket and went about putting on her coat. "I'm sorry Bri. I can stay if you really don't want me to go."

Bri smiled. "You've got a life, an interesting and fun one from the looks of it. You don't need to stay and watch me. Megan is working a shift tonight and will drop by on her breaks and whenever she can get away. I'll be fine. I'll just watch some telly and get some sleep."

"If you're sure," Amber hesitated as she slowly headed for the door.

"Go before I get out of this bed and shove you," the woman laughed which caused Amber to do the same. "I'll see you later."

"Love you," Amber called and waited for the same to be said back. When she heard it she fully slipped out of the room and, with a little less guilt, lightly jogged to the lift and left the hospital with a grin on her face. She was more than excited to be working a case that didn't involve herself. It had been a long time coming and she knew it was going to be worth it.

000000000000000

Halfway through her tube trip back to Baker Street, Amber received yet another text from Sherlock with the address of the location of one of the bodies. She assumed it was the body he was currently en-route to and she figured John was with the other body. When she asked, she had learned her assumption was right. That made her smile, the fact that she knew them so well.

Of course that meant she had a longer trip, having to get off at one station to make a connection to another line. Thinking about it now, she would have been better off it she had simply taken a cab. It would have cost a little more but at least she wouldn't have been walking and it wouldn't have taken so long. Really, either way she went about her travel route, she still would only get there by the time Sherlock had pretty much figured out everything or even solved the case depending on the difficulty it posed for him.

In a small part of her brain, she was praying that this was a rather long and intricate case if only to keep him from becoming overly bored. Given the fact that he had spent the last four days in Scotland with her, with no case, she knew that a nice long case was needed to avoid a meltdown later on. It was wrong of her to think that way, to wish a murder case was dragged out because it was hard to solve, but if it kept John sane and herself from wanting to pull her hair out than so be it.

She was just exiting the tube station a block and a half away from the crime scene when her phone beeped.

**Are you here yet? -SH**

**I'm a block away Sherlock. -AD**

**What is taking so long? -SH**

"Really?" she mumbled lightly to herself as she looked at her phone while walking down the street, easily managing to contemplate messaging back while walking around people. Finally she just shook her head, stuffed the phone in her pocket and continued on until she came to the crime scene tape.

She worked her way through the growing crowd wishing for once that she had her identification badge. Since she was technically not working for the police at the moment she'd had to give the badge to Lestrade to hold on to until she returned. It made for one hell of a time getting through the crowds but because she was so well known around the Yard, one of the officers manning the tape let her through without even asking to see her ID. She thanked the officer and made her way past a huffy looking Donovan who Amber knew as going to make some snide remark. She gave a cocky finger wave to Anderson before she entered the small deli and grocery store where the cops and forensic team members seemed to be entering and leaving.

"Is she here yet?" she heard Sherlock's voice as she moved farther into the back, having been directed to the loading bay by a few tech team members.

"I would assume so," she answered lightly with a chuckle. "Hello Lestrade," she greeted kindly seeing the older man smiling widely at her.

"I'd say welcome back but everyone knows you aren't here for work," the detective inspector teased though there was just a tiny hint of seriousness in his voice. It wasn't unknown to Amber that Lestrade wasn't to fond of her having decided she needed some time away from her job, especially if she had decided to take that time to work cases with Sherlock. It was the same job, except when she was with Sherlock she wasn't making as much money as she could be with Scotland Yard.

She sighed but was still smiling, this was a long standing argument since she had informed him of her temporary departure two weeks ago. "It's only for a little while Lestrade."

"I thought that you wanted a break from murder?" he questioned.

Amber's smile dropped a fraction of a percent as she shook her head. "Not so much a break from murder, a break from working on murder cases almost constantly. Hell just a break from work in general. With the cases I worked and the media who are typically camped outside my doorstep, I am public interest number one given my lineage. I decided a break from that would be nice and it would help cool the fire some." She thought about it for a moment, surprised to realize that in the hours since she had gotten home there hadn't been any media personal anywhere. Maybe they had gotten bored with Amber not showing up for nearly a week or maybe they had another more interesting story to chase. Either way she was happy about it. "We've been over this and I'd like to move on. What happened here?" she finished with the question.

"Amber," Sherlock called before Lestrade could even give her a run down on what had occurred. She knew by this point Sherlock had already given his speech of what he believed happened and part of the life story of the victim. She also knew what he was going to ask now. "What do you see?"

Now she smirked, shook her head, and requested a pair of gloves with a hand signal. She slipped them on, and with a little difficulty she managed to kneel down beside the body of a woman while her hip was screaming at her to stand back up. She doubted that her hip would ever be the same given the beating she had taken.

She looked over the body of the woman. She was slender, blond, late to early forties, dressed in high end clothing. She had a stab wound in her back, the fabric of her shirt soaked through with blood. "Is it safe to touch the body?" she questioned and was given the okay. She lifted the woman carefully, noticing no wounds on the front of the body. She gently laid the woman back down to inspect the jewelry she wore as well as noting any other marking. It left her stumped as to why the murder had taken place but she did know a little more about what might have happened. She knew Sherlock knew and she knew he wanted her to tell them what she thought.

"Female, blond, late to early forties given her state of dress and physical features. Could be older if she's taken care of herself well. Judging by her clothing she's upper middle class, well taken care of. Her hands are soft, unscarred, and uncalloused. She clearly doesn't do work with her hands and going by the state of the soles of her designer heels she clearly doesn't walk around much in them on the street, I'd hazard a guess at a housewife. However her marriage isn't a happy one. Her wedding band and engagement ring are missing, either taken from her—"

"Found in her pocket," Sherlock muttered as he stood back and listen to Amber explain.

"Right, so if they were found in her pocket she was most likely meeting someone she didn't want to knowing she was married. Given her age it is logical to assume she's been married for around a decade, more than enough time for a tan line to form where the rings are supposed to sit. Sadly, the area is lightly tan, not as tan as the rest of her hand so she spends a lot of time with her rings off and has for quite some time now. So she's a serial cheater or she's got a long term boyfriend her husband doesn't know about and the boyfriend wouldn't know about the husband.

"Now the cause of death, that's easier. Stabbed in the back, right through to the heart at an upward angle. The assailant had to be taller than her and much more stronger. I'd say male given the fact that to puncture through all that muscle and into the heart takes a lot more power than a woman could produce. That and the fact that the victim is about five eleven, which is tall for a woman so if the assailant was female she'd have had to be over six foot. Not likely in all reality. There is some slight bruising around her mouth which means whoever did this held his had tightly over her mouth to keep her from screaming out when she was grabbed and then stabbed. She put up one hell of a struggle, otherwise there wouldn't have been that much of bruising around her mouth," she said, recalling when she had been held at the gala, she'd struggled against the hand on her mouth. Thankfully she hadn't had any bruising on her face, she'd managed to stop fighting before the pressure had gotten to that point.

"As for the reason behind her murder, well I have no idea," she finally finished, reaching a hand up for Sherlock to take. He helped her to her feet, feeling more than a little guilty when a flash of pain whipped through her eyes as she stood straight. He knew her hip hurt her when she kneeled down yet he had still asked her to look at the body. It had been instinct to ask her, curiosity and the urge to see if she could see everything he had. They hadn't worked many cases together where she hadn't been the first one at the scene and he even more rarely got to see her work out the details of a case. He might have said it was annoying hearing her do the deductions when in front of a client, which had only happened once or twice, he enjoyed watching her surprise the officers. At this point they knew what to expect when he got involved but Amber was a different story. She surprised them and that was interesting in its own right.

"Same thing Sherlock said, fewer words but still the same," Lestrade rubbed at his face.

"What about the other victim?" she asked with a curious tilt of her head. "Sherlock said there was a second body found across town with the same general time of death and the same method. I'm assuming that meant stabbed through the back with bruising around her mouth."

Lestrade nodded. "The exact same stab. That body was found not long after we got the call for this one. Dimmock is there with John."

"Has John sent any pictures?"

"We were on skype on my phone," Sherlock pulled out his mobile and wiggled it for emphasis. "The victim is a brunette, around the same age as this victim, married but was wearing her rings though they were neglected for the most part. Upper middle class going by her clothing and the state of her hands and frame signaled housewife. Same wound pattern, stabbed in the back up into the heart by someone taller than she was."

"Any connections?" Amber asked next, more to Lestrade than to Sherlock, as she pulled off her gloves with a snap, hissing when her ring caught on one making it harder to get the damned rubber glove off.

Lestrade, having noticed the action, the slight curse, and the ring, did a double take but didn't ask any questions, not yet anyways. They were in the middle of an investigation. "Both woman had identification on them, we have officers heading to their husbands to bring them down to identify the bodies when they arrive at the morgue. We're going to interview them separately and see if either of them knew the other victim."

"They knew one another," she said looking back at the woman. "Or at least they knew someone in common. These seem like two completely random acts and, when thought of normally, they are. They're just coincidences really but when you pile the facts up they aren't a coincidence. Someone knew these two woman somehow and wanted them dead. Maybe it had to do with this victim's cheating or that both of them were cheating. A scorned lover they shared, angry that he had been lied to by both parties or an angry girlfriend or wife of one of the victims' conquests. Could be a number of things but you can't rule anything out. Can we sit in with you while you interview the husbands?" She nudged Sherlock when he started to ask if they could actually do the interview. "John can sit in with one husband while Sherlock and I sit in with the other," she added for Lestrade's sake. If anyone could keep Sherlock from acting like a bastard in an interview room it was Amber and everyone knew it.

Lestrade blinked at her, still after all these months he was surprised when she pulled a Sherlock at a crime scene and then transition right into procedure. She really would have made a lovely detective or officer if she had been willing to go through all that. "Sure, I'll give you a call when they arrive. Should I give Dimmock a call to let him know you're headed his way?"

"No," Amber shook her head just as Sherlock said "Yes." She glared at him but didn't contradict him.

Lestrade looked between the two, chuckled and nodded. Sherlock didn't say anything while Amber bid Lestrade goodbye as they began to walk away.

"Congratulations," the DI said with a slight smirk while nodding to her left hand to indicate what he meant. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks Inspector," she laughed as she went to catch up with Sherlock, lacing her fingers with his as they walked from the back loading bay and out of the building. She didn't care that the media was camped outside, didn't even pay them any attention when they figured out who was walking from an active crime scene. She knew what was in store for them in a matter of days. Her aunt and uncle were handling the situation. She just smiled smugly as she walked on, surprisingly happy about working with Sherlock.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are really welcome!**

**A/N: Hello there all to the end of this chapter. I'm really kind of nervous about this chapter because it's a bit of a transition chapter which will lead into more cases and how Sherlock and Amber interact outside of being alone. It's also a good introduction to Brianna because she'll be around for quite some time to come in this story. She's a minor character but she is important despite that. I'm really curious as to how you all enjoyed this chapter and that it is up to par with the others and that OOCness isn't a problem. Keep in mind that Sherlock is supposed to be emotional with Amber because he does love her. Please don't be pointing anything out that he wouldn't act like that even with her. A man in love acts different around the person he loves then he will around others. Just a friendly PSA on my part lol. **

**As for the Lord of the Rings idea, if any of you are interested in it (aside from Gwilwillith ;)) please do let me know and I'll PM you if you want. I like the input of my readers. And for any of those wondering, no that story would not in anyway shape or form impact the updating of this story. I will keep to my twice a week schedule (barring incidents) until this story is finished, which, given that this is the 4th chapter posted we've got a little over 20 weeks to go. If you do the math that makes there about 45 chapters in total for this story. That's what I have planned out, it could be longer or shorter. **

**Okay enough of my rambling. **

**Until Sunday my lovelies!**


	5. 004

_Hello once more! Sorry for the later posting of this chapter. Due to some issues, the next few chapters might be slightly delayed, nothing more than a few hours too early the following day. So sorry in advance for that!_

**_FreakinLimitedEdition:_**_ Thank you! Thank you so very much! This made me smile, I'm not kidding you. I'm glad you love the story and you find the characters realistic. Everyone enjoys that fact that they are engaged :) Enjoy this chapter!_

**_Empress of Verace:_** _Oh thank goodness. I wasn't sure if the case was interesting or not. I find it really basic, but then again I know how it's going to be solved and what's going on so that might be why I think that lol. We'll be seeing more of Brianna soon, trust me. Enjoy the chapter!_

**_Loki'sdreamer:_**_ Yes, this story is going to be quite long if I have planned it right. Longer than the last one at least. I think Amber WOULD follow Sherlock anywhere, mostly because she enjoys watching Sherlock in tight situation and seeing how he gets out of it. Plus she's kind of his voice of reason, or at least I see her as that. Hope you enjoy the chapter!_

**_skidney: _**_Yay! Thank you! Enjoy!_

_**Gwilwillith: **Thank you so much! Ahh, I meant to PM you but I got so wrapped up in this chapter and fighting with my laptop. I'm so happy that I'll have someone to talk to about Tolkien and of course Middle Earth, I'm finally getting back into his work after years of ignoring that part of my obsessions (by years I mean nearly a decade though I'm new to the movieverse). Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter!  
_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I only own Amber, Megan, anything you don't recognize as well as the plot. _

* * *

**[004]**

John was a little more than surprised to learn that Sherlock was going to be joining him on the opposite side of the city to look at the body. He wasn't, however, surprised to learn that Amber was going to be tagging along with him. Amber was curious by nature, a little more than she really should be considering he previous experiences with murder as of late. Maybe it was the fact that she was voluntarily coming to a scene instead of having to work it as part of her job or maybe it was just the fact that she might just follow Sherlock anywhere because it was fun. Either way John was kind of glad she was coming to work the case with them. Amber always did have a way of brightening up a case as well as lightening the blow of Sherlock's rudeness. It was a gift, it just had to be.

So when John saw Sherlock approaching him without Amber in tow, he was a little concerned as to where the redhead had gotten to. "Where's Amber?" he asked in way of greeting, knowing that it wasn't often Sherlock said hello to anyone besides Amber.

"Talking with Dimmock," he stated simply before skirting around John in search of the body which was now still laying under the sheet the medical examiner had laid over it. They were far enough away from the hustle of the city that there weren't as many bystanders as there could have been which was why the body was still there. If they had been any closer to the city center Sherlock would have had to go to the morgue to see the body.

"Why's she doing that?" John followed behind, quite as he could, while Sherlock pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, putting them on and crouching down beside the body.

"According to Lestrade Dimmock isn't much of a fan, given the events of last spring. She's apparently smoothing things over," Sherlock explained, more than he usually would have said on the topic.

John nodded, gave a glance back in the general direction of where he had last see the detective inspector, and finally noted Amber and the other man talking. Amber was using her hands slightly, trying to explain something or another until finally John saw the slight shift in her stance and the way her body went ridged. He wasn't sure if he should have gotten Sherlock's attention but before he could even think to turn around and tap his friend on the shoulder he saw Amber's hand lift just before she used it to slap the DI across the face.

There was a shout, a flurry of officers coming to the aid of the DI who was now sputtering while Amber simply walked around the man and stalked her way to John and Sherlock. "Hello John," she said rather cheerfully, though the army doctor could clearly sense there was nothing cheery in her facial expression.

"Everything alright?" he asked while Amber gave Sherlock a look. The man hadn't even bothered to glance up upon hearing Amber approach and speak.

She cocked her head to the side slightly in question. "Yes, why?"

John looked at her before looking back to see a fuming Dimmock standing where he had been standing when Amber had slapped him. "Well you just smacked Dimmock," he clarified for her. He knew at this point that she hadn't known he had seen the exchange between herself and the DI.

Sherlock's head turned up after hearing John say that. He gave Amber a once over, as if making sure she was physically alright, before his eyes landed on her face. "Why did you smack him?" He didn't sound upset that she had struck someone, in fact he sounded damn near pleased that she had.

Letting out a long winded sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. "He said something that wasn't very polite and I felt it deserved a bit of a slap. He's never been kind to me, ever since I started with the Yard. Something about reminding him of you and that I'd gladly take his job given the chance. This time round it was a rude comment about you and I. Inappropriate and frankly bordering on harassment. Had to get my point across somehow," she finished with a shrug. Sherlock turned back to the body, no other questions asked. "So is everything the same as with the other victim?"

"You can be arrested for that!" John hissed as he ignored the question she had asked. He was a little concerned that Amber wasn't worried about legal action being taken for her hitting an officer of the law. It was a crime and though Amber worked for the police that didn't mean she could go around hitting them whenever they offended her. Then again, knowing that Amber was not the violent type, whatever Dimmock had said must have been bad enough to warrant the treatment he had received.

Amber rolled her eyes but didn't say anything as she waited ever so patiently for Sherlock to finish his examination. John, seeing no other alternative, stood there and watched as well. He didn't know exactly what Sherlock was going to find. The video conversation they had over the phone had proved just how similar the crimes were to one another and the fact that they committed around the same time was enough to show that this was not a coincidence of any sort. Sherlock didn't need to look at this body to see that.

"Similar enough to prove that the murders were committed by two different men, different heights, different physical build, and a different knife," Sherlock finally broke the silence after having looked over the body rather thoroughly.

"How can you tell?" John asked before Amber could even open her mouth to ask the same thing. She smiled, happy to see them working together again. She had, and she hated to admit this, felt exceedingly bad about the fact that she had broken between the two men. They had still worked together on cases, yes, but for the most part Sherlock had spent most of his time so focused on her it was as if John had faded to the background. Now Amber was the one who kept quite and faded just a bit into the background as she watched Sherlock motion for John to take a closer, even more closer than he had originally she assumed, look at the body.

Sherlock pointed out the stab wound. "The entrance wound is longer than that of the other victim, the edges more ragged which means the blade was different. How could you no—" he stopped when he felt Amber's hand on his arm.

"We're not all hyper-observant Sherlock. Take that into consideration before you ask how he couldn't see it."

"Could you?" he questioned curiously.

She blinked, looked at the body and the wound which was visible thanks to the woman having worn some sort of backless shirt. With the other victim Sherlock had to apparently lift her shirt just to see the wound, at least that was what Sherlock had told her on the way across the city. "To be brutally honest, no, I didn't see it. Then again I wasn't looking at the body as closely as you were."

He blinked, John smirked, and Amber just stood there with her arms crossed. "Has Lestrade gotten word from the victims' respective husbands?" John broke the silence that had fallen over them just as Sherlock was going back for a third look at the body, second in person though.

When Sherlock didn't respond, John turned to look at Amber who shook her head at her boyfriend. She looked to John and gave him a nod. "He sent some officers to collect the men for questioning. I requested that we be allowed to sit in and he gave us permission. You'll sit in with this victim's husband while Sherlock and I sit in with the other." At his slightly confused looked she laughed. "I'm sure Sherlock will give you a list of questions and if not I'll write them down for you."

"I thought you said we were sitting in."

"Doesn't mean you can't have questions. The police don't always ask the right things at the right time or at all for that matter. Little things that, under normal circumstances, aren't important. I'm sure you've done a few interviews before," she smirked now, a brow raised as she shot a look to Sherlock and then back to John. "I've read the blog, I know," she chuckled lightly before heading to stand beside Sherlock.

She looked down at him as he went about taking a closer look at the stab wound, noted the state of her jewelry and even went so far as to go through her pockets even though she knew that he knew the police had already done that. She would have loved to have knelt down beside him and help, as well as see what exactly he saw but given the state of the pain radiating through her hip she knew that it wasn't the best option in the world. What she wanted right now was a pain pill and a hot bubble bath to sooth the ache. Sadly she knew it would be several more hours before she got what she wanted.

Leaving John to keep an eye on Sherlock, Amber began to simply mosey around the scene, careful of where she stepped and made minor notes of where evidence happened to be, or at least things the forensic techs thought to be evidence. She categorized them in her head, kicked the rejects out and was left with only a few useful items which she knew Sherlock himself would take notice of when he did the same.

There really wasn't much to go on. It hadn't rained in days, which meant no wet shoes prints. They were on a cemented area anyways which meant there wasn't dirt to actually catch a good enough print to begin with. The cigarette butts littering the area could have been from anyone, as well as any and all other debris. There was a little smear of blood on a nearby wall as well as fresh blood drops leading away from where the body was. Given that the drops were moving away from the body she had a thought that it was possible the blood had come from the weapon used to kill the woman. The drops had a gravitational pattern, meaning wherever they had come from there had been some forward motion involved. However that really didn't help figure anything out. The blood on the wall was fresh, and like the drops, most likely came from the victim herself.

It was a moment like this where she wished she had more than just her phone to use to take pictures of the scene and evidence. It was a moment like this where she regretted taking that time off from work. Then again if she had been working she might not have even been on either of the scenes. She could have been stuck in the lab doing Lord knows what. Hell she probably would have been were she was now because she still would have been on medical leave.

The distant sound of Sherlock calling for her brought her out of her musings, making her realize she had gone far farther than she had originally planned. That made her brows furrow just a little as she looked at the blood drops on the ground. She looked back to where Sherlock and John still stood around the body, and judging the distance guessed that she was at least a hundred meters away from the original scene. That made no sense. If there were blood drops that far away than something was wrong, this wasn't the only victim of this particular crime.

Ignoring now the shouts of both Sherlock and John, Amber followed those blood drops until she came to the street opposite of where the body was. The drops ended just at the curb in front of a parking spot. She frowned now, tilted her head to the side, and thought about what this meant. Either there was a third victim who had survived and was in a hospital right now, or the killer had injured himself. She knew it was possible that the last bit was true but given the fact that the blood drops did not start beside the victim's body, instead starting about fifteen feet from the body, that meant that there might have been someone else, someone the killer had thought he had killed but in the end hadn't managed to get the job done. Somewhere in the city there was a stabbing victim who knew who the killer was, if they hadn't died en-route to the hospital. If they had, though, the police would haven known about it.

Turning on her heels she slowly jogged her way, the fastest speed she could go at the moment (God would she be happy when she could run again), back to Sherlock and John. "There's a third victim."

"What?" Sherlock and John snapped at the same time, surprised at her announcement.

"Fifteen feet from here a trail of blood drops start. They go on for about a hundred and fifteen meters until they stop at the street. Either the person got in their car or managed to hail cab rather fast. I'm betting that it was their own car given the fact that there isn't a large puddle of blood on the pavement," she explained calmly enough as the both looked at her as if she were lying. "Go on," she motioned in the direction she had come from. "Check it out. Hard to believe, I can understand, but I'm not trying to fool either of you. There is a third victim who survived and I have no idea how if they were being stabbed through the heart."

"There's a condition," John started. "Where the heart is on the opposite side of the body. It's called Situs Inversus. If the third victim had that it's quite possible that he or she managed to survive and seek medical attention. They would most likely have a punctured lung, however." Amber flinched lightly at that term as she gently rubbed her side, remembering her own collapsed lungs. Sometimes it still hurt to take a deep breath, but those moments were now few and far between. Of that she was more than thankful and happy.

"I need to call Megan, she's got enough connections to the local hospitals that she might be able to help me locate a stabbing victim who was recently admitted," she pulled out her mobile. "You two go on to the Yard. I'll follow shortly," she said smiling grimly at them.

Sherlock gave her a look that questioned if she wanted him to go with her to the hospital. Her smile turned from grim to soft as she walked up to him, taking his hand in hers. "Don't be rude, or more rude than you usually are when it comes to victim's families. I'll text you when I find the third victim. Let Lestrade know." He gave her a curt nod right before she leaned up on her tip toes to give him a gentle kiss.

Squeezing his hand slightly, she let it go before turning around and heading back to the street. Halfway there she turned back around, walking backwards she called for John. "Please do let Lestrade know I'm on to something!" She chuckled as she heard John laugh because they both knew that Sherlock wouldn't have let the DI know anything if he had his way. It was more fun to let the DI sweat a bit and to show off at the Yard. Sure people hated it but Sherlock enjoyed it more than anything.

Hailing a cab when she was at the street, she didn't even spare a look at Dimmock who she knew to be currently staring a whole in her back. She wasn't about to let Dimmock know of the fact that there was another victim. If he was that stupid that he didn't notice it than it was his fault and not hers. She wasn't inclined to tell him, not after he had been a bastard. She knew it was childish considering she was in her late twenties, but today she was feeling petty and childish. It wasn't often that she felt that way and for once she was going to act on it. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn't like he'd lock her up. He knew she'd be out within the hour, her uncle would see to that.

000000000000000

Four hours, and a lot of running around the city, later Amber finally managed to get back to the Yard. She had little to no information on the possibility of a third victim. She had run around to several, if not all, the major hospitals in the city, calling the smaller ones to see if they had any stabbing victims who's heart was on the opposite side than it should have been. She hadn't had any luck and had been looked at oddly a couple of times because the question was so insane it was hard to believe. She'd been run out of one hospital because she didn't have any identification that could prove she worked for the police.

That moment had been one where she wished she hadn't taken that damn sabbatical from work. There was nothing she could do now, short of requesting she be reinstated. She easily could have done so, if she really wanted to, but she really did want this time off. She wanted not to have to be ruled by work and bossed around. She enjoyed working a little more freely with Sherlock and John. She knew that if she had been working theses cases she wouldn't have been able to be this hands on. She wouldn't have been allowed to go to the hospitals and ask questions and receive answers. She was only a lab geek after all, the person who hid behind a camera lens and rarely got her hands dirty unless she was really needed.

So it was there in the lift on the way to Lestrade's office that she realized, though she loved her job, she didn't ALWAYS love it. She would go back to work after six months, she wasn't doubting that. She did love her job that much that she was willing to go back, but maybe she'd try to find more ways to work with Sherlock. She loved working cases with him, besides the ones he often helped the Yard with. She would try to make more time, move her schedule around, take the days off when she wanted too or when she could. Her days off would be hers, she would not give in to Lestrade's pleading that they were understaffed. She would try, boy would she try, to have the best of both her work world and her personal world. That thought made her smile brightly as the lift came to a halt at the floor she needed.

Sherlock was the first one to spot Amber as she walked at a rather slower pace in the general direction of Lestrade's office. She was limping ever so slightly, just enough for him to realize that she should be at home resting and not running around the city like he was. Despite the fact that she looked alright, besides a few linger marks from her abduction, such as the marks on her wrists, she was still healing. Her internal injuries had been few but severe enough that she'd coded on the way to the hospital and been unconscious for four days. She'd had major surgery on both her lungs which he knew winded her more often than she cared to admit. Her left hip, which had taken so much of the beating, hadn't been broken but the bruises had gone down to the bone and the muscles had been torn and damaged. She still needed to be rest, yet here she was running around the city with him because she wanted to. He should have insisted she stay behind, he never should have texted her when she had been visiting her sister. But he hadn't really thought anything of it, it had become such a natural thing to text her when there was a case. Even when she had been the hospital he had texted her when he was working a case. It was just...becoming second nature, like living with John and working cases with him.

He didn't so much as greet her as pulled out a chair, took her by the shoulders, and shoved her down gently so that she was sitting. "Stay," he ordered lightly to which he watch her eye brow raise while both John and Lestrade laughed.

"Any luck on the possible third victim?" John asked after he had finished his snickering.

She gave a final glare to Sherlock, though she was more than happy to finally be sitting down somewhere that wasn't moving. "Nothing. No hospital I have visited or called has had a victim matching the description I gave them. Having there heart on the right side of their body makes the person pretty distinguishable and no one has had a patient like that come in. I had Meg call some of the hospitals I couldn't get to and still nothing. It's quite possible that this person is already dead somewhere in the city without anyone knowing about it."

"I'll have a couple of uniforms keep on the hospitals. It could be that this person wasn't stabbed bad enough that they needed medical care, at least not yet. They might turn up at a later time," Lestrade said, making an note to himself.

Amber nodded. "How about the husbands? Any information?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said coolly.

She knew that tone. It was the tone he used when he wasn't getting the clues he needed. "Lestrade?" She turned her attention to the DI because she knew he would give her the answer she happened to be looking for.

"He's right, we got nothing from them. According to both men their marriages were rather rocky but not going so far as to say their wives, or themselves for that matter, were cheating. They did not know the other victim, but couldn't say for sure if their wives actually knew the other or not."

"They were lying," Sherlock's voice rang out, a little annoyed and dull at the same time. "Of course their wives knew one another. They wouldn't be dead if they hadn't. The question is how they knew one another and who was this mysterious third victim."

"We won't know for sure if there was a third victim until we run a blood test. Until then we'll work under the assumption that there are only two victims with no actual connection until we can find one," Lestrade said right before Sherlock let out a groan and flopped himself into the chair beside Amber's. "And, just to ease my own curiosity, when the hell did you two decide to get married?!"

Amber, knowing Sherlock, slapped a hand over his mouth before he could say something he would either later regret or would get the silent treatment for. "Last weeks when I was in Scotland, more like four days ago. It's really no one's concern but are own at the moment," she said, the look she gave was intended for John. "So John, it'd be best if you tried somehow to get Megan off my case about this. We'll," she pointed between herself and Sherlock. "Talk about it when we're ready. Right now we're letting things settle." She removed her hand, hoping that Sherlock would keep himself quiet. Much to her excitement he did, but he didn't look happy about it.

John nodded, understanding that they needed some time without their friends harping them every twenty seconds about the engagement. He had a feeling that Amber would try to sit and have a talk with Megan later that night, giving little away as to what happened and why it happened. This was personal on the part of the redhead and the consulting detective, and as curious as everyone seemed to be they had to understand that it wasn't proper to try to invade the personal matter.

"So what do we do now?"

"We go home, get some rest, and then start the investigation tomorrow," Amber piped up before Sherlock could suggest doing something more drastic. She knew what he had found on the first body, she had seen him find the little identification card from inside the woman's inner coat pocket, which apparently the officers and medical examiner had forgotten to check, or completely overlooked. She wasn't so much suggesting they actually go home, she was suggesting that he keep his mouth shut so that they could do what they needed to do without Lestrade following behind.

John, having caught on to Amber's plan, nudged Sherlock's foot with his own catching the man's attention. "You two just got back, considering Amber is still healing I think it would be a good idea, not just as a doctor but as a friend, that she get some rest. The case isn't going to go anywhere," he said in the attempt to back up what Amber was saying.

Sherlock, still not quite catching on, furrowed his brows in annoyance, not quite liking the idea of having to put off the first REAL case he had had in weeks. He didn't understand why Amber just couldn't go home by herself. When he looked at her to ask that question he saw a look in her eyes that clearly told him he was being an idiot. He didn't know why she had that look but he decided to go along with what both she and John were saying. If anything he might be able to convince them of continuing on with the investigation when they got in a taxi to head back to Baker Street.

"Fine," he mocked groaned though it wasn't so much a lie. He was frustrated with playing along which would mean they were taking precious time away from the case itself.

Amber tried not to roll her eyes, knowing that Sherlock hadn't gotten the hints they were giving. Thankfully Lestrade hadn't caught on either. Maybe it was because she did legitimately look like she was in need of rest or that they were really good actors and Sherlock was just that oblivious. Either way she was happy with the situation. "Come on," she smiled and reached out to take Sherlock's hand, standing up and attempting to pull him up with her. It didn't work, given the fact that she was rather small in her frame compared to him. However he did stand up after a minute, linking his fingers with hers as they all bid Lestrade good day before heading to the lift

With the lift being empty of all other people besides the trio of investigators, Amber used her free hand to smack Sherlock lightly on the arm. "You're a clod and really need to start learning to take cues."

"What?" Sherlock questioned in offense, not for the first time considering she had called him a clod on several occasions when he didn't catch onto social cues.

John, taking over for Amber who was now shaking her head, smirked as he spoke. "We saw you take that identification card, we know we need to go to the address on it because it clearly isn't her usual one. If you had just run off without word to Lestrade as to where you were going while still investigating he would have been suspicious."

"We're covering for you Sherlock," Amber finished with a chuckle watching as Sherlock looked between the two of them.

After a moment Sherlock blurted out, "Thanks." Both John and Amber looked at one another, shrugged and smiled as they exited the lift and left the Yard.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are really welcome!**

**A/N: So is this story living up the first one or is it slipping? I'm really curious lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's a little shorter than the last couple of chapters but for the life of me I couldn't find a way to continue this chapter without making it too long winded and annoying. I hope no one is OOC is this chapter, including Amber, and I really do hope you all are enjoying this. **

**That is all. **

**Until Wednesday my lovelies!**


	6. 005

_Hello all! I apologize for the delay! I will not happen again! More on that in the A/N at the bottom!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock! I own Amber and anything else you do not recognize from the show, this includes my plotline._

* * *

**[005]**

Sitting in the back of a rather small taxi, Amber was practically sitting on Sherlock's lap in the effort to give everyone enough room to sit comfortably. The cabbie hadn't said much on the topic, merely looked at the trio with the kind of expression that could only be called exasperation at having to cart three grown adults in the back of a rather small car. It hadn't helped that Amber and Sherlock had started to bicker over the lack of seating and the fact that since they needed to talk about the case one neither of them would take the front passenger's seat. So in the end it had been rather like a couple of children arguing while the adult, John in this instance, apologized for their actions.

The duo still continued to argue back and forth as they were driven to the address listed on the card from the first victim, a Felicia Morrison. "Five, at most six," John finally grumbled, breaking into the argument which had pretty much become a name calling match.

"What?" they responded in unison, eyeing the army doctor in utter confusion. Usually Amber was better at picking up on things that Sherlock wasn't, yet she didn't understand the context in which John used those numbers. They hadn't even been talking about anything that would use those numbers.

"How old you two are, five or six. Sherlock, possibly five. You, more or less six," John retorted in his annoyance, not just at the conversation but at the situation as a whole. "I've had to put up with you two bickering from the start of this ride. I should have just sat up front," he crossed his arms the best he could in the tight space he had been allotted.

The cabbie snorted but was wise enough to keep his mouth shut. Clearly only one of the two people in the back of his cab had common sense in their head. He'd have laid his bets on the redhead upon seeing them flag him down but now, fifteen minutes into the ride, he knew he'd have lost the bet and then some.

"We are not bickering," Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly thinking John was overreacting to him and Amber have a small disagreement.

It was Amber's turn to snort before she gave Sherlock a lighter nudge than he actually deserved. "'Course we've been bickering Sherlock. Haven't stopped since we got in the bloody cab," she mentioned as she replayed the entirety of the conversation back in her head. She mentally cringed when she realized how insensitive and oblivious they had been to the fact that there were two other people in the cab with them.

She leaned forward on Sherlock's lap, hearing the man in question hiss out a breath at the movement while John slapped his hand over his face in embarrassment. They both knew why he had made that sound, one chose to ignore it and the other chose to feel embarrassed while trying to ignore it. "Would you mind pulling over for a mo so that one of us could move up front? I'm sure it'll make all of us a little less irritable and uncomfortable." She smiled sweetly, knowing that kindness worked best in odd situations such as the one they were currently stuck in.

"Um," the cabbie started, flicking his gaze up to the review mirror to see the redhead. "Sure," he finally agreed and pulled the cab over to the curb where their was a free parking spot. This was certainly not a usual fare but given the distance they were traveling, he was going to be making a nice sum of money for his effort at not seeming uncomfortable around the trio.

John was the first, and only, one out of the back, scrambling as fast as he could to get to the front passenger's seat. "I would have taken the front," Amber said after she had finally settled into his vacated spot while he buckled himself up in the front. "It wouldn't have been much trouble."

"Not a problem," he answered cheerfully, his attitude having cleared right up now that he wasn't invading the personal space of a couple who clearly enjoyed the physical contact the cramped backseat had offered. John would never say it out loud, but the reason he had been uncomfortable hadn't been because of their bickering and name calling, that he actually found amusing, if not a tad annoying when their voice raised. It had been the fact that the two of them seemed awfully comfortable sitting how they had been, Amber on Sherlock's lap and all. Even as they had started throwing out minor insults at one another, they had still had a bit of light and twinkle in their eyes that read the affection and love they had for one another. That alone was enough to disturb John. He wasn't used to seeing Sherlock like that, so...open.

"If you're sure," Amber stated awkwardly, realization dawning on her as to what had made her friend feel uncomfortable in the back with them. "Then I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to continue on," she said more to both Sherlock and John than the cabbie. But the man driving took that as his cue that everything was done and settled. Before too long they were off and back in traffic on their way to the second address of the dead woman.

000000000000000

Finding the flat once they were dropped off on the street wasn't the hard part, getting into the secure building was, however, going to be hard. They couldn't just waltz right in or try to somehow break in. They had to actually have some kind of plan.

So the trio stood in front of the intercom system, Amber staring at the names listed looking for the one in particular they needed. When she found it, she craned her neck and looked up towards the fifth floor where, according to the number next to the intercom button, said the woman's flat was located. There was no way any of them could scale themselves that far up the building. If it had been a ground floor or even first floor flat they might have been able to, but not with it being on the fifth level.

Flicking her eyes back to the button for a second she finally looked to Sherlock and John who had begun to think of ways to get into the building. Having enough of their rambling and plans, she finally sighed. She reached out and pressed the button of the flat, working on a hunch. She had to bat both men off when they let out two very different noises, one of confusion and the other of annoyance. Since she wasn't looking at them she simply guessed which noise belonged to who and she knew she was right.

"Hello?" a male voice asked hesitantly from the intercom.

Amber smiled triumphantly at the men beside her before putting a bit of kindness and concern her in voice. "Hello, I'm, um, looking for Felicia. I'm Amber, a friend of hers, and I haven't heard from her in a couple of days. Do you know where I can find her?" she questioned, hoping she sounded mildly believable to the man on the other side of intercom.

"I'm sorry, I've never heard her mention you before," he sounded like he wanted to believe her but he was scared to.

She frowned, knowing that fearful tone all too well. It was the tone of someone who knew something but was too fearful to actually say anything. She forced fake hurt in her voice as she continued, "Well that isn't very nice of her. I've known her for five years and she doesn't even talk about me," she added a huff to her voice. "That's not really what matters. I was actually looking for her because she borrowed a dress of mine a couple weeks ago and she promised to give it back, like, yesterday and I need it. I've got a date tonight with my husband and I'd like to wear that particular dress. Is there anyway you can let me in just for a moment?"

"Um," he hesitated for a moment. "Sure, I'll buzz you in."

"Thank you so much," she sighed out in relief, both real and fake.

The trio heard the sound of buzzing from the door. Amber darted forward and grabbed the door before it locked once more. She held the door slightly open, just a crack, as she turned back to her face both her friend and her boyfriend who were currently right on her heels. "Stay," she ordered causing them both to step back and look at her. "I said I was here, not you two. I can ask a couple of questions, snoop around her flat on the pretenses of looking for a dress. After a little bit I'll say it isn't there and that she must have dropped the dress off a dry cleaners. I'll leave and that'll be that. This is probably the guy who she was cheating on her husband with," she explained lightly, knowing that John would see her reasoning but Sherlock, well, not so much.

Amber didn't so much as wait for a response from either of them two men in front of her, instead she opened the door just enough so that her small body could slip through before pulling the door closed behind her. That pretty much locked both men out, one of which was laughing because the other looked like he was about to explode in his anger and annoyance. She blew Sherlock a kiss, gave a wave, and made for the lift at the back of the building near the post room.

John continued to laugh, more silently this time, as his laughing seemed to make Sherlock even more upset, as Amber finally disappeared from their line of sight. Sherlock appeared to be pouting, which made the whole situation even more hilarious. John was enjoying the moment while he could because he wasn't sure if this kind of dynamic between the two of them would stay this way.

John, nor Sherlock he supposed, were used to this type of behavior from Amber. She seemed freer, playful and teasing almost in how she acted. She wasn't meek, that had been apparent from the start as well as her playfulness, but it had never been this forefront in her personality. John wasn't sure if it had just been the stress of dealing with everything that had tampered down her natural nature or if it was something else completely. That was what made it so funny to him because this was who she really was.

He wondered if Sherlock was enjoying this new found cockiness that Amber seemed to be wearing. From the look on the other man's face he was guessing it was a no at the moment. She had pretty much just taken the lead on this case by going in undercover to get any answers they might be seeking. He knew that Sherlock wasn't going to look to favorably on that because, as was Sherlock's nature, he liked to be the one running the show. Amber taking that show from his was new and threw the man for a loop, of that John was certain.

But as John watched Sherlock's face for a few moments after her had finally stopped laughing, he noticed that the look of anger had slipped into a look of fondness, still with the undertones of annoyance, as he watched where Amber had disappeared off to. He'd seen that a lot lately, ever since she had returned from the hospital. Sherlock had seemed less inclined to shout and yell or even rant when he was bored. It hadn't been until Amber had taken off up north that Sherlock had begun to slip back into his natural ways, including the not-so-secret sneaking of cigarettes.

Actually that brought up another interesting thing, he hadn't seen Sherlock light up in hours. He looked back through the glass doors realizing that once again Amber had managed to do what none of them could ever do for long. She kept the great Sherlock Holmes from smoking and shooting walls. That was an amazing feat in its own right. The fact that it took her such a short time to do it was another. Maybe the offer of a girlfriend, and later wife, was enough to keep Sherlock from being bored all the time.

However, his wondering was cut short by seeing Sherlock getting ready to hit the same button Amber had on the intercom system. John managed to catch a hold of Sherlock's coat sleeve before he managed to actually press that button. "Leave her be. She'll do just fine."

"She doesn't know what she's looking for," Sherlock grumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

John, still not releasing Sherlock because he knew what the man would do if he did, leveled his gaze on his friend. "She's smart, brilliant actually. I'm sure she'll figure out what we need as evidence. She worked with the Yard after all."

Sherlock scoffed, pulled his coat out of John's hold and stalked off a couple of meters before patting down his coat. He let out a frustrated growl before he stalked back to John who simple chuckled out, "She took your cigarettes in the cab didn't she?"

"No," he said with the petulant tone of a five year old who's favorite toy had been taken away.

John shook his head. Amber had most certainly taken his cigarettes, or what was left of them anyways. "Then did you misplace them again?"

"I don't misplace things," Sherlock seemed to be degrading into a child even more since he wasn't getting his way.

"You misplace your skull," John pointed out lightly, kind of enjoying seeing his friend in such a rare mood out in public. Usually he had to wait to see him act all sullen when they were at home.

"Amber and Mrs. Hudson steal it," he snapped.

Before John could retort that while those two stole it some of the time, most of the time Sherlock had misplaced it somewhere in the flat under a mountain of books or paper, Sherlock was pulling his phone out of his pocket. John moved a bit closer to see what he was staring at, only to see a single text message with two words typed.

**Quit. Whining. -AD**

And just like that John started to laugh once more as Sherlock rolled his eyes, archived the text, and stuffed the mobile back into his pocket as they both waited for Amber to come back down with whatever information he had gathered.

000000000000000

Up in the flat Amber was having a much harder time. While downstairs John was dealing with Sherlock acting as a five year old child, Amber was currently dealing with a twenty six year old man who was hovering like a mother hen as she flitted around the flat looking for the pretend dress. She'd take dealing with a childish Sherlock Holmes than a hovering stranger any day. "It's purple, kind of sparkly around the bust," she indicated as she walked around a rather large recliner chair. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the expensive, yet tasteless decorations. It certainly might have been a wealthy person's flat but judging by the tastes it didn't exactly belong to Mrs. Morrison.

"Mid-thigh, handkerchief hemline, kind of gauzy and breezy, light enough for a hot day but heavy enough for a mild one," she continued rambling, actually explaining a lovely little number she had picked up in Scotland for the rehearsal dinner of her cousin's wedding. She actually couldn't wait to see the look on Sherlock's face when she wore it. He seemed to enjoy her in dresses.

The man, flustered at the invasion of a woman he didn't know but obviously knew his girlfriend, was still following her around as she made it to the back bedroom. "I'm sorry, um what was your name again?" he asked as he pushed open the door for her as was polite.

"Amber, Amber Briggs," she stuck out her hand, happy that she remembered to use her father's last name instead of her given surname. Amberlyn Devons was known through London now, but Amber itself was a common name so she could get away with that. She hated actively lying so using her first name and her father's surname came rather naturally instead of having to think of a fake name on the spot. "I feel so daft. Felicia must have told me a hundred times what your name was but for the life of me I can't remember. I'm terrible with names," she played off her lack of knowing name with a slight laugh, acting the part of a ditz because according to Felicia's husband she was a bit of an air bubble. His words, not hers.

"Robert," he took a hold of her hand lightly, giving it a light shake.

She had a flash of embarrassment when he spotted the healing wounds on her wrists so she snatched her hand back as politely as possible without it seeming overly rushed. "I had a rough couple of years in my youth and occasionally I still slip. I'm not really proud of it." She hated using the pretenses of self-harm, she had known quite a few friends in school who had once had that issue, including one of her younger cousins. She'd helped her through the rough times and now that girl was traveling Europe with her husband.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he mumbled, crossing his arms in an uncomfortable manner.

Amber tilted her head, looked hard at him for a moment. Something was off, not just him seeming uncomfortable, but something else. Like he knew something but he wasn't really going to speak about it. So she asked, "Something's the matter isn't it?"

"No," the man said as he sat himself down on the edge of the bed, arms still crossed. "Yes," he heaved a breath. "Felicia's hasn't been home in two days. Most of the time she's working late and doesn't get home until morning but she hasn't been home at all," he explained as Amber, under the pretenses of still looking for that dress, walked into the closest.

"Speaking of that, I haven't heard from her in days either. Last I talked to her she was going on a business trip but I'm assuming she always calls you."

"Always, that damn job of hers," she heard him hiss out.

Amber raised her brow, according to the husband and the state of the wife's hands she hadn't worked a day in her life. Someone, somewhere was lying. The evidence of that was in the form of a little paper card sitting on the floor of the closet. She was thankful she was in the closet when she leaned down to pick up the colourful business card off the floor. The smile she gave would not have fit the conversation, that was for sure. She stuffed the card in her pocket as she pretended to ruffle through the hanging clothes, cursing all the while until finally she came out in a huff. "Well that damned dress isn't here. I'll have to try my dry cleaners. I told Felicia to drop it there if it needed to be cleaned."

"I wish I could have been some help," Robert, though clearly uncomfortable with Amber, smiled slightly as he escorted her to the front door. He seemed a little more than excited for her to be leaving.

She smiled, genuinely, as she walked out the door. "You were more than helpful, you let me in after all. It was a pleasure meeting you and if you see Felicia tell her I said hello." She tried to keep the cringe out of her voice, knowing that this man who clearly loved Felicia had no idea she was dead. It was only a matter of time before he learned of her death if he didn't know already. That might have been why he seemed so uncomfortable with one of her 'friends' in the flat. God, Amber hoped she had set it up in such a way that it made her seem forgettable.

"I will. Good luck...with everything," he motioned to her wrists.

Giving a half smile she walked to the lift at the end of the hall, hearing the door of the flat finally click when she had pressed the down button. As she waited for the lift to come from the ground floor, she pulled out the business card from her pocket. It was for a florist shoppe, which didn't make sense as to why the woman would be working late. Then again Felicia could have been lying to her live in boyfriend. It was clear that neither the husband nor the boyfriend knew the other was being cheated on, but to her it appeared that the boyfriend, beyond being upset that his girlfriend was missing, clearly had a feeling of what said girlfriend was getting up to when she wasn't home with him.

Inside the lift she took a closer look at the card, noting a number printed at the bottom. Pulling out her mobile, she dialed he number quickly and waited for someone to answer.

"Hello Morrison's Flowers, how may I help you?"

Amber smiled smugly, more to herself because she knew Sherlock was not going to he happy knowing that she had out-sleuthed him for once. "Good evening, I'm looking for Felicia Morrison. She said she could be reached at this number."

"I'm sorry to have to inform you but Mrs. Morrison has died."

"Oh," Amber put the fake shock in her voice once more. "I'm so sorry to hear that."

"Yes, it was a tragic loss for the business as well as for her husband. If you'd like to send your condolences, we offer a wide variety of flowers to choose from," the woman offered, always a sales person.

With a roll of her eyes, Amber stepped out of the lift on the ground floor with the phone still at her ear. "I'm a friend of the family, I'll give her husband a call or stop in for a visit later. Have a good day," she said before the woman said the same thing. She hung up the phone, stuffed her phone in her pocket and walked down the hall until she came to the entrance way. She saw Sherlock outside, still pouting in annoyance but less so than he had been originally. John seemed to still have a smirk on his face, probably still laughing at how childish Sherlock was being.

Opening the door, the men moving so that they weren't hit by the glass door as she swung it outwards, she motioned towards Sherlock as she tossed him her small purse. "Grab a piece of paper out of there as well as the medical tape," she ordered lightly, keeping her foot in the door so that it wouldn't fully close. She tried to stand in a manner that didn't look suspicious to passersby but given that her foot was STUCK in the door, she knew someone was bound to notice if Sherlock didn't hurry up.

When she finally did have the tape and paper in hand, she quickly ripped a small piece off the paper as well as tearing a small strip of the transparent tape she usually kept on hand. Carefully, with her back to the street and turned away from all the CCTV cameras she had noticed on the way in, she covered the magnetic lock with the paper. Looking it at it for a moment she frowned, pulled off the tape and paper before just putting a piece of tape over the lock. Looking at it now she saw that it looked as if nothing was there. She shut the door, pulled it slightly and found that it opened properly.

Smiling, she turned back to the men. "Anyways, Felicia Morrison most certainly stayed here, probably more often than she stayed at home with her husband. She owns, rather owned, a flower shoppe that her boyfriend claims kept her away at all hours of the night which was why she rarely slept over."

Neither of them, having caught already on to the reason why she had done the tape trick, even bothered to ask why. "Does he know she's dead?" Sherlock asked instead, handing back her purse and taking the business card she offered him while they began to walk a little ways away from the building.

Yawning, Amber realized the sun was now setting in the city and before long night would be upon them. She hadn't even noticed that since her arrival home at noon that she had been gone most of the day and it was beginning to take a toll on her. "Not yet. As soon as he calls the flower place he'll know."

"How do you know that?" It was John who asked while Sherlock smirked.

Moving closer to Sherlock, really wanting to lean on him in that moment, Amber gave John a devious grin as they came to a stop about half a block away. "I swiped the card from the closet, called the number while in the lift. Simple really. The woman who answered was more than happy to tell me Felicia was dead, not murdered, just that she'd died. She tried to sell me flowers which I could send as condolences to the husband and family," she sneered the last part out. It was a heinous crime in her book to use the death of another person as a way to make money.

"Do you think the boyfriend had anything to do with her murder?" Again it was John who was asking, Sherlock kept quiet, listening to everything Amber said and forming his own theories because of it. He would have to wait until later to take a look at the flat, obviously they couldn't go in now, they'd have to wait until the boyfriend left which was why Amber had put the tape over the lock.

"Did he kill her? No I don't believe he did. He said she had been missing for several days, probably trying to make up for missed time with her husband but the fact that he seemed rather distraught when I said I hadn't heard from her in days leads me to believe he had nothing to do with her murder. The next question would be if he knew about her husband. That I believe he had some kind of inkling of. When he said that she usually never returned home until early morning he seemed a little upset with that fact. Not the kind of upset because one's partner isn't sleeping in the same bed as them, but the kind of upset meaning he knew something wasn't right about her frequent business adventures at night," she finished off with a tilted of her head upwards to look at Sherlock. "Any theories?"

"We need to talk to her husband." It was so simple that she blinked.

"Really, don't you think we should bring this bit of information to Lestrade first. Or visit her shoppe?" she countered lightly with a hint of teasing in her voice. She knew she was going to have to be the one to tell Lestrade the information they had just learned. She also knew that they would be visiting the florist shoppe later. Why she had asked, well that was a mystery even to herself. They all knew what they would be doing later.

"We'll get to that later," he said simple.

"Where do you think we'll find the husband?" John inquired as they looked up and down the rather quiet street.

Amber had an idea. "I don't think that Felicia was the actual owner of the flower shoppe, given that it bares her last name rather than her first. I'd bet a years worth of work at the Yard that her husband bought it for her to keep her busy. He'll either be there or at their home. We can wait until tomorrow to talk to the husband given that we're going to be breaking and entering tonight, throw him off his guard a little bit. He won't be expecting an interview, by private detectives nonetheless, so soon."

"Our best option at the moment would be to go to that little cafe across from the flat and have ourselves tea or coffee while we wait for Robert to leave. We'll sneak in, take a closer look around and then we'll go to Lestrade. It'd be best to give him at least a little of what we know, such as the fact that Felicia was stepping out on her husband, and then go home and get some rest," she held up her hand right before Sherlock began to protest. "I need to get some rest, not you I suppose. Food would be good," this time she put her hand over his mouth. "For all of us. The last time I ate was last night at dinner. I'm pretty much starving right now."

When her hand was removed from Sherlock's mouth, she was happy to say that he didn't so much as verbally announce his displeasure at knowing she was right as he just grumbled lightly while John and Amber just smirked. Amber wouldn't say she had Sherlock wrapped around her finger, but at this point she knew he was halfway to that point. She felt a little bad about it, especially knowing that it was because he was scared that he would lose her again. She knew that in a couple of weeks, when the reality of what had happened passed, Sherlock would be back to his old self. That meant he wouldn't always agree with her, nor let her steal the show.

So for right now she just enjoyed the moment. She smiled at Sherlock, offering him her hand which he gently took. "Come on, I can eat at the cafe," she chuckled as she tugged Sherlock's hand until he was walking beside her and John. Together the trio headed back from where they came, clearly intending to be stuck there for some time.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome!**

**A/N: Sorry for the lack of not answering reviews at the beginning of the chapter. Sadly my laptop is about to die and I wanted to get this posted NOW instead of waiting until my laptop charges. So I'm kinda rushing this post I suppose but I've made you wait long enough. I promise I will answer any and all reviews at the start (or end) of the next chapter! Your reviews mean a lot to me!**

**Secondly, how did you like the chapter? Please let me know if you want to!**

**And lastly, I wanted to let you all know that in the coming weeks, besides scaling back my updating on this story to once a week (on Sundays) until I get enough chapters written up that I won't have to rush too much. I will also be working on editing "Breaking the Barrier". By editing I mean fixing typos and things like that. I'll also be attempting to add at least two new chapters to the story to add a little more...omph to the kidnapping scene. I'll be sure to let you all know when and if I do that. I'll add them to the story but I'll also put up a separate story for those of you who don't want to go back and reread that. I really hope that made sense. If not please PM and I'll explain a little more. **

**That is all my lovelies...oh before I go...is anyone else in the Being Human(UK) fandom? **

**Until next Sunday!**


	7. 006

_Hello and welcome to the new, somewhat, delayed chapter! Responses to reviews will be at the bottom of the page from now on. It makes things a bit cleaner if I do say so myself. _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I only own Amber, the plot, and anything you do not actually recognise._

* * *

**[006]**

Squirming in her chair, Amber was not about to announce that she was hurting as bad as she was. They had been sitting in the cafe for a little over an hour and a half, talking about the case as well as nonsense. Well the nonsense talk came between Amber and John, Sherlock having clearly been more interested in watching the building of flats and talking about the case. That didn't mean he wasn't listening to every word they said. Amber knew Sherlock. She knew he liked listening to her talk even if it wasn't about what he was currently obsessed with.

During the conversation she'd eaten just a little bit, the pain that seemed to radiate through her hip having caused her appetite to plummet the worse it got. She wouldn't have eaten at all at that point if it hadn't of been for Sherlock giving her a look that clearly told her she needed food. He'd also given the same look to John which had caused the army doctor to order food right along with the obviously pained redhead. That had made her laugh and took her mind off the pain, allowing her to actually sort of enjoy the meal and company before her.

"I don't think he's going to leave," John stated when they both had finished what they could of their meal. Amber had significantly more on her plate than John so she offered up the plate to Sherlock, hoping against all hope that he would at least nick a few chips. Much to John's surprise and her excitement, Sherlock did indeed snag a few chips in such a manner that made John realize his friend wasn't even conscious that he was doing it. It solidified the fact that Sherlock would pretty much do just about anything to keep a smile on Amber's face, even if that meant eating something in the middle of a case.

"He'll leave eventually," she said as she smiled while watching Sherlock nibble on the chips. "You can't stay cooped in a flat all day without going a little bit crazy, especially when someone you love is missing," Amber continued on lightly, a hint of pain in her voice. She knew all to well what it was like to have someone missing and being stuck with no way of doing anything or even know where she was. She could sympathize with the man in that flat. She supposed that was what was making her calm at the moment and less impatient than the two men beside her.

"He could be one of the killers," John suggested, voicing the thing they all were thinking but not really dwelling on, well Sherlock might have been. No one really knew what exactly went through that mans head when he was working a case, especially a murder case for the police.

Raising a brow at him she turned to Sherlock for a second, still seeing that he was watching the building. She sighed and looked back to John. "I highly doubt it. He'd have been a lot more hesitant to let me in when he 'learned' I was friends with his girlfriend. He wouldn't have wanted me in the flat and he certainly wouldn't have seemed so...lost when he told me she hadn't been home. He made it seem like she was rarely gone for that long."

"That makes me wonder, how did she pull of living with two people?"

"Relatively wealthy upper middle class man, often away on business or stuck in an office all hours of the night. Gives the wife an opportunity to do as she pleases when she pleases. The husband rarely ever saw the wife," Sherlock announced in answer to John's question.

With a shake of her head Amber rolled her eyes. While she might have agreed with Sherlock's reasoning, she also knew that he could be completely wrong. "It is also possible that the husband was very aware of the fact his wife went missing at night for long hours."

"Then that would make the husband a suspect." John's brows furrowed together as he was trying to make the same connections that the two of them were. "That doesn't explain how we have two victims who were killed in the same manner, at the same time, in different parts of the city. Are both the husband's suspect?"

"I'd say they are," Amber nodded. "You can't rule them out, not completely even with alibis. In this day and age it's rather easy to have someone vouch for you. A couple quid lighter in the pocket and you've got yourself some who'll pretty much say anything you want them to, up to and including saying they committed the crime." She shrugged. "Money goes quite a long way. I often paid off my younger cousins to take the fall for things I used to do growing up. No punishment was great enough for them to not take the money I offered." She chuckled as she remembered, her cousins always did like when she tossed a couple pounds there way to take the blame.

The trio fell into silence once more before Amber, giving up on conversation since no one seemed to really want to talk, stood up. She grabbed the trash, stalked carefully around the table, and dumped it in the bin. She returned to her spot only to notice Sherlock watching her while John now kept eye on the building. "What?" she questioned softly.

"Nothing," Sherlock shook his head and looked back out the window. After another few moments he turned back to her, his face reading a little bit of worry as he studied her face carefully. He could see the forming bruises under her eyes, a sure sign she was starting to feel exhausted. Her eyes seemed a little more dim than they had been in the last few days, another sign she was tired and needed some rest. What concerned him the most was the occasional wince she gave when shifting her weight as she sat or walked. He doubted she even noticed, actually he knew she didn't notice that her face gave away her pain. "When was the last time you had any pain medication?" he asked, startling her at the suddenness of the question.

"After we landed I took a couple of aspirin, nothing stronger since the night before last. Why?"

"Your limp," was all he stated which caused her to frown.

Rubbing her hip out of forced habit, she sighed. "How bad is it, really?"

"Not terribly bad, but noticeable enough. It's gotten progressively worse since you returned from your search across the city for the possible third victim," he said as an added reminder of the stress she had put her body under over the course of the day.

She didn't try to correct him, she knew there WAS another victim somewhere in the city she just hadn't found them yet. "It's still healing Sherlock, as everyone keeps telling me. Give me a couple of weeks and it'll be perfectly fine," she smiled at him, laying her hand over his for a second, giving his hand a squeeze before using her thumb to stroke gently across the back of his hand.

"He's leaving," John alerted them quietly causing them to break contact.

The three of them now, as discreetly as possible, looked out the window seeing the man Amber had described upon entering the cafe earlier exiting the building across the street. Having nothing else to gather or throw out, they got up from the table and exited the cafe. John was the last on out the door having held it open for Amber after Sherlock had rushed out, seeming to forget that they were even there with him.

Both the army doctor and the photographer simply sighed as they followed the wayward consulting detective across the street, a little more careful of the traffic than he had been. This had left the two of them to apologize to the annoyed citizens who had almost crashed because Sherlock couldn't be bothered to wait for a clear stretch of road. It both annoyed and overjoyed Amber to see Sherlock so excited to be working while it merely annoyed John to no end.

By the time Amber actually slipped through the door of the building she was giggling, having not done something so silly since she was a teenager. At twenty nine, she should not have been breaking into flats with her soon-to-be husband and friend. She should have been home with a glass of wine and something boring on the telly. That or her and Sherlock should have been out at the theater or dinner or something of that nature. Yet she wouldn't trade this kind of adventure for anything in the world. The adrenaline rush was enough to chase the pain and the tiredness she felt.

She was the last one in the lift, hitting the button before Sherlock could even stretch out his hand.

Sherlock smirked when he saw her grin, happy that she was enjoying herself even if she really shouldn't have been running around the city with them. She seemed to like working cases with him and John. She did have a good eye, had helped in the past to get his mind working and processing faster, and she managed to keep him in check when she saw him going off the deep end just a little. She helped get information out of suspects, victims, and witnesses. She did so with such and effortlessness that it stunned him into silence. She was so connected to people and understanding that it often left Sherlock confused because while she was similar to him, seeing her talk with others made him realize she had the connections to others that he had such a hard time forming.

"Anyone have a pin of some sort?" she finally broke the silence, pulling Sherlock from his mind.

"No," both responded as they watched her frown before stuffing her hand in her pocket rather suddenly. They both looked at her, curious as to what the hell she was looking for.

She pulled out the little bobby pin she had taken to keeping in her pocket and held it up triumphantly. She didn't even know why she hadn't thought of it before. Possibly because she hadn't had need of it since she had stashed it there.

"Think this will work?" she asked as she showed it to both Sherlock and John. It was a rather small pin but if worked the right way she could probably jimmy a lock rather quickly. Having grown up with several male cousins who had a knack for getting into trouble, she'd picked up on lock picking quite fast in her youth. However, the most she had ever used it for was to get herself into her bathroom or bedroom if she happened to have locked herself out, which happened far to often that it should have. That particular skill wasn't under a time restraint, she could take as long as she wanted to break into her own room or bathroom. Getting into other places was another topic entirely which was why she'd had Sherlock help in refining that lock picking skill not to long ago, before her misfortune of being kidnapped that was. Now she couldn't wait to use this particular skill for something other than getting into a room she had locked herself out of or getting her sister out of manacles.

"Should do the trick," John said while Sherlock gave her a curt nod.

With a quick flick of her wrist the pin was pushed into her hair carefully where she knew she wouldn't have to dig around for it, like she had when it was in her pocket. The plus side of having the pin in her hair was that it kept the one damn stray lock that kept falling into her eyes out of her face and away from her glasses. It had become rather annoying to have to shove that strand of hair back off her face or tuck it behind her ear. Sherlock had even taken to pushing it off her face from time to time.

The lift dinged and spilled them out onto the fifth floor where Amber escorted the two men down the hall and to the door of the flat they were looking for. Sherlock tried the knob, on the off chance that the fool had left it unlocked. It wasn't surprising when the knob didn't budge much.

"Should I or shall you?" Amber teased lightly as she pulled the pin from her hair, holding it up between herself and Sherlock. She rose her brow in the challenge. She had proved to be a little more skilled at getting into locks that Sherlock. The two of them had already timed each other, Amber having been several seconds faster than him in all the trials they had done and on several different types of locks. So she knew that he would take the offer of the challenge.

While Sherlock saw the challenge in her eyes and the smirk on her face, he couldn't help but play both scenarios out in his mind. If he allowed her to pick the lock she would be forced to kneel down on the ground, or bend down depending on how she wished to pick the lock. She was already suffering enough with her hip and having to move any way that would bend her or force her to exert pressure on her hip would make it that much worse. Then again if he took the pin and picked the lock himself she would see that as him accepting the challenge she had openly offered. It would keep her on her feet and keep her from hurting herself. It would also give him to a chance to prove that in a real situation he could, indeed, pick a lock faster than she could, especially when there was the pressure of someone coming into the building at any moment. She'd never had to do that. He, on the other hand, had more than once.

"I'll do it," he finally said, reaching for the pin she still held out to him. Instead of giving it to him she snatched it back quickly. "What?" he asked, impatient now with whatever game she was trying to play.

"Shouldn't someone be a look out?" she huffed as she tossed him the pin in agitation.

Both men looked at her, thought for a moment, looked at each other and then nodded. "John, could you do that?" Sherlock was the one who asked.

With a roll of his eyes John headed for the stairs but Amber stopped him with a hand on the arm. "I'll do it," she smiled as she spoke, all to happy that she'd basically be sitting on the stairs with her phone in her hand just encase she had to text Sherlock or John if they needed to get out of the flat in a hurry. "Don't mess anything up," she directed that statement at Sherlock because she knew he loved to snoop which often lead to him moving things and sometimes forgetting to put them back where they rightfully belonged.

She left the two men in the hallway, took the lift back down to the first floor, and took the stairs down until she could just see the front entrance of the building but wasn't in the direct line of sight if anyone came through that door. She sat herself on the stairs, pulled out her phone, opened one of the reading applications she had, searched for a book, and began to lightly read as she waited for Sherlock and John to get back done upstairs.

000000000000000

Sherlock had the door open in a matter of seconds after having watched Amber disappear into the lift. To be rather honest he was quite relieved that Amber wasn't going back into the flat, that instead she was going to be the lookout so that neither he nor John go caught breaking into a flat that clearly wasn't theirs.

"Is she alright?" John asked just as Sherlock swung open the door.

"Yes," Sherlock replied rather quick. It was rather surprising, at least to John, that he hadn't asked who John was talking about. Usually when he brought up someone who wasn't there actively he got a questioning response that only frustrated him. Though it seemed that if the comment or questioned concerned Amber he understood immediately who was being talked about. It was refreshing to see really.

John's brows furrowed at the one worded answer as he followed his friend into the flat, closing the door and flicking the light on. They were careful to keep the light to a minimum just in case someone happened to look and see the light shining from the windows. If anyone knew that the actual tenant living in the flat was out yet all the lights were on, surely the police would be called and the trio would be taken in for questioning. That was something they didn't need nor did they want.

"Are you sure? She's limping," John mumbled as he watched Sherlock begin to inspect the living room. He turned things over, moved things and pictures and vases, but always put them back in their proper place as if no one had ever touched them.

Sherlock, having heard the question, ignored John for a moment until the army doctor asked again. "Her hip was badly injured, her left iliac crest was cracked from the beating and that takes time to heal. She happens to be lucky that she's up and mobile. If she wasn't as resilient as she was she'd still be on crutches and stuck in her flat." There was a little bit of heat in Sherlock's tone, just enough that John caught it but if anyone else had been in the room they wouldn't have heard anything different in the man's tone.

John nodded, the only thing he really could do, knowing that Sherlock was right. "She seems to be faring well, has she talked to you about what happened?"

Sherlock shook his head, not really wishing to dwell on what exactly happened to Amber. He knew enough to know that she hadn't been touched sexually, just beaten to within an inch of her life. She didn't talk about what was said, nor did she bother to go into detail on how she was beaten. They might have talked about some nightmares and a couple of fears, but never, ever about everything in full blown detail. He assumed she talked to her therapist because she was coping rather well for someone who had been stalked for nearly seven years and then taken hostage by a madman she had once been married to.

John made a sort of noise that sounded like a disgruntled snort, as if Sherlock and Amber not having talked about her ordeal was something they should do. However he was careful not to actually say anything on the topic as he wandered into the kitchen and began opening cabinets and searching for lord knows what. "What are we looking for anyways?"

"Anything that could connect the boyfriend to the murders," Sherlock could be heard shouting from the bedroom, at least that was where John supposed he was at the moment seeing as when he entered the kitchen Sherlock had been leaving the living room.

John shut a cabinet, looking in the general direction of Sherlock and shook his head in annoyance. That answer wasn't very helpful. "What exactly would that be?"

"Anything," Sherlock answered once more which only caused the other man to roll his eyes.

"We don't even know the type of knife was used," he muttered as he opened one of the drawers finding the silverware. He sifted through the knives, both large and small but finding nothing that seemed to fit the knife used in either of the murders, or at least the idea of the knife that had been used. It had to have been a rather long knife to actually go through the back and puncture the heart.

He moved from the kitchen to the small laundry area where he found a basket of dirty clothing, all belonging to a man rather than a women. That was a surprise considering the flat did have a female touch to it and Amber said the closet was overflowing with woman's clothing.

Despite his better judgment and the things he had once told Sherlock about not having the urge to rifle through another blokes dirty clothing, he did just that. He wasn't overly pleased with it. In fact he was slightly disgusted but thankful that even though the clothes were dirty they wasn't horribly so. When the search turned up nothing, not even a stained shirt, John walked back out of the laundry area and into the living room where he found Sherlock flipping through what looked to be an address book of some sort. It was purple and certainly not a mans.

"What are you doing?" he asked of the consulting detective who didn't even bother to lift his head.

"Mrs. Morrison's day planner. Left it in the bedside table," Sherlock answered as he flipped through the pages, seeming to skim them as he went. He stopped on a page, grinned suddenly and snapped the book closed before standing up and heading for the door.

John, confused, followed behind. He made sure the door was locked before they headed in the direction of the stairs instead of the lift. "What did you find?"

"We're we'll be going tomorrow!" With that they headed downstairs where they collected Amber and headed back home to 221B Baker Street.

000000000000000

Amber, with slightly trembling hands, slipped her key into the lock of her front door and turned it sharply. The pain she felt had increased ten fold on the tube ride back to Baker Street. She'd been jostled by a group of rather annoying teenagers, her hip having slammed into not only one of the poles but also one of the partitions sectioning off the wheel chair section from the seats. She knew she was probably a little bruised, in fact she was certain that by tomorrow she would have some lovely purplish marks over the horrid fading green ones.

"I'll put on the kettle," she mumbled as she pulled the key from the lock, letting Sherlock in. She knew Sherlock wasn't going to be sleeping tonight. However she planned on at least trying to catch a few hours, if not more so. She really needed it at this point. She'd been going for a little over eighteen hours now and it was more than beginning to take it's toll on both her mind and body.

"Go to bed," Sherlock steered her in the direction of the bedroom just as she had toed out of her shoes. She hadn't even managed to get her coat off.

Protesting, Amber struggled against his hands which were now placed on her shoulders. "Sherlock," he wasn't listening, just ushering her back to her bedroom. Seeing she could do nothing else, she ducked out from under his hands which caused him to pitch forward before managing to get his footing. He turned to look at her, a confused expression on his face. "Sherlock, I have things I have to do. I have to get food and water for both the cat and rabbit. I need to take my coat off. I have to change, brush my teeth, wash my face. I can't just go fall into bed and go to sleep. It's not like I'm a teenager who just came home from a late study meet with her mates," she chided lightly with no anger. She loved that fact that he was worried about her. She didn't have the heart to tell him this was nothing compared to what she had been through in the past. She could live with the pain, it wasn't as bad as it seemed really. Just annoying if any thing else. "It'll be at least a half an hour before I can even crawl under the blankets and go to bed. At least let me put on the kettle and have a cuppa to relax," she smiled softly at him, really wishing he understood that she didn't have the liberty to just do something without thinking of the other things she had to do. He did that enough for the two of them as it was.

When he only blinked at her, she simple shook her head, shucked her coat and tossed it onto the couch, before patting Sherlock's cheek as she walked around him. "Do whatever it is you wanna do. I'll make us some tea, do my what I need to do, and then go to bed. Just don't blow up my flat," she teased lightly as she bypassed him with a slight limp to head in the direction of the kitchen.

Amber gasped when she felt him grab her arm and carefully spin her around until she was carefully tucked into his arms. She smiled contentedly as she snuggled into his chest, her arms lacing around his slim waist. "Well this is unexpected," she mumbled more to herself than to Sherlock. She was often the one who initiated physical contact, though lately it had seemed that when in private he was more than happy to hold her, kiss her, or in some manner just touch her. She loved that, the fact that he was so willing to just be there with her and touch her. She knew from past experience and talking to several people that Sherlock was not a touchy feely kind of man. But here, alone and together, he reached for her without being urged or asked.

"Do as little of what you need to do as possible and go to bed. I'll take care of making tea and the animals," Sherlock whispered as he kissed the top of her head.

"Sherlock," she whispered as she felt the full weight of the day come crashing down around her. She wouldn't say it was stress that made her tear up, but that was part of the reason. Combine that with the surge of emotion from what Sherlock had just said and that was why she felt like hugging him tighter and crying. "You've got enough to think about and do."

"Are you crying?" he asked suddenly, pulling her away ever so slightly to look down at her face. Sure enough he did see some tears in her eyes, a rouge drop slipping down her cheek. Placing a hand on her cheek he wiped away the wetness. "Why are you crying?" He was utterly befuddled as to what would cause her to cry in that moment. He worried that maybe he had said something, made some kind of motion that upset her somehow. Maybe he had jostled her too much and the pain was making her cry. He really didn't know and reading her, while in the past had been easy, had become hard to do as of late.

Not trusting her voice, she shook her head and raised her hand to cover the one he held against her cheek. Instead of answering him vocally she merely raised onto her tip toes. Laying the hand not covering his on his shoulder to keep her stable, and despite the screaming protest of her bones and muscles, she laid her lips ever so gently against his in a silent thanks for the compassion he showed when she so desperately needed it.

A little surprised but thrilled nonetheless, Sherlock leaned in to the kiss allowing Amber to drop down onto the flats on feet as he tightly wrapped his arms around her. He made sure he was gently about it, careful not to jostle her overly so in case she was still hurting which he knew she was. He felt the hand on his shoulder move to wrap around his neck as her other arm did the same, her fingers curling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He felt her tug lightly, felt the way her lips put just a little more pressure on his, the way she ran her tongue across his lips in a silent request for entry. When he obliged he heard her sigh softly, pressing her body closer to his. His arms tightened before he could even begin to realize with any rational part of his mind what he was doing. That was how it was with Amber, everything he thought flew out the window when his lips were pressed against hers, when her soft supple frame melded against his.

The kiss grew from gentle to heated in a fraction of a second as Amber's hands grabbed a little tighter at the back of his neck while his fingers sought her skin, lifting the hem of her shirt until the pads of his finger tips met soft flesh. She seemed to shuddered at the touch, a response that always made him happy.

Sherlock felt her push him back slightly with her hips, her bare feet shuffling forward until they met his. He took that queue and began to back up until his calves came in contact with the couch behind him. He felt her remove her hands from around his neck, finally pulling away from the kiss, and smile devilishly up at him before giving him a light shove so that he fell backwards onto the couch. He could only hold his breath as she straddled his lap, lacing her arms back around his neck and bringing her lips back down to his.

It only took him a moment to catch on, a second for his hands to once more clutch at her hips as his mind fogged more so than it had before, a more primal instinct having taken over. She groaned softly when they broke apart. He wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain considering his hands were kneading her hips. However, it didn't seem to affect her much as her lips moved against his once more, her hands having traveled from his hair to the collar of his shirt, griping the fabric tightly.

His hands moved further up, raising her shirt and exposing skin as he did so. The feel of her, the softness. It was nearly as intoxicating as the taste of her lips. He'd felt her skin before but never had the contact lasted this long, despite him wanting it to. His hands continued their path upwards as hers now reached for the top button of the shirt he wore.

He knew that if he didn't stop this now the moment would whirl right past the point of no return. In a moment of clarity he asked himself it this was proper, if after all they had been through that day and the weeks before hand that this was what they should be doing. He had told her once that he would wait, that he wouldn't push the physical aspect of their relationship. This wasn't pushing, this was full blown throwing caution to the wind and going for it.

"Amber," Sherlock muttered when her lips moved from his to trail down his jaw.

"Hmm," she hummed as she started to nip lightly until she made her way to his neck.

"Are you sure?" he panted lightly, the feel of her lips on his neck nearly undoing him. He had never though in all his years that he would meet a woman would could completely leave him breathless and craving this form of contact. Sex had never been on the top of his list of things to do, it wasn't even on the top of the list of things to do with Amber, but he wanted her. He wanted her more than he cared to admit because it still scared him. He loved her and this would only solidify this fact to both himself and her.

Sherlock watched her lean back, her green eyes hazed behind her glasses, her expression one of love and trust. "Yes," she whispered lightly as she kissed him tenderly.

That was the only thing he needed to hear.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are always welcome!**

**A/N: So, as you can guess there will be a rather 'interesting' scene in the next chapter. I hope you all don't mind but I kinda felt like if I don't add that now it wasn't going to happen for a long while. Plus I kind of feel that this is a good part to have that type of chapter. There isn't immediate danger or anything overly pressing that would stop them, so yeah. Hope you don't mind!**

**I also want to say that I am sorry for the delay in this chapter. Some things came up and I hadn't gotten a chance to edit the chapter until late today (Sunday). So I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Reviews:**

**Empress of Verace: **I'm glad to hear you loved it as always. Sorry for the delay and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Loki'sdreamer: **Oh yeah, Amber is a lot better at interviewing people. Sherlock has a rather harsh way of doing it while Amber kind of can understand what victims/witnesses are going through. Plus being sweet usually helps put people at ease and they talk. Um, I think I set it up so that she had a total of six, possibly five and a half, months before she does back to work. Hope you enjoyed the chapter.

**bored411: **Yay! I'm so happy to hear that. I try to make the chapters/scenes believable enough that readers can feel that way, like they are there in some manner. Hope this chapter was just as good!

**Anime-Freak1298: **Yes, the last chapter was kind of rushed now that I reread it back to myself. I'm gonna try to flush it out with a little more detail, but not enough that it would change the chapter. I'm happy that you feel that 'Breaking the Barrier' was good as it is. I'm still debating on adding a little more to the story or leaving it as it is. I am however going to be editing it for grammar issues lol. I hope that I can get chapters written quickly but so far that doesn't seem to be happening. I have a couple more weeks before my classes start so I'm going to be buckling down and writing as much as can. Hopefully I'll be back to updating twice a week in no time! Hope you liked the chapter!

**And there we have it my lovelies. I am off to write more, so see you soon!**


	8. 007

_Hello there once more. I want to apologize again for the rather long delay but there was nothing I could do. I should be back to updating every sunday. I start my classes on the 19th and I'm hoping to be far enough ahead with chapters that I won't have to push myself too much. So just be on the lookout for possibly spotty updating but remember I will always update on Sundays, I might just end up skipping a week if it can't be helped. I hope you all understand. _

_On another note, this chapter has me really nervous. As you all probably know this chapter has a very 'intimate' beginning which is why this story is labeled 'M'. The part that has me nervous is not the fact that this is a sex scene (I've written those before but not as shadowed as this which IS making me a little nervous to get feed back) The real reason I'm nervous is because has a habit of deleting stories of that mature nature. On my old account one of my stories had been deleted because of "inappropriate material" apparently. Which was why I ended leaving fanfiction for a little over 2 years and then finally making this account. So I tried to keep the graphicness to a minimum and make it a little more focused on emotions and thoughts and stuff like that. So please, feedback is much wanted as long as you are polite and kind._

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I own Amber, the plot, and anything else you do not recognize!_

* * *

**[007]**

With a moan Amber bit at her own bottom lip. Sherlock's lips were currently making a downward journey towards her neck while his hands were shifting her shirt higher until it was gathered just under her bust. She could feel his hands, just there, right under her bra and if he were to move his hands up he'd be cupping her breasts through fabric.

She shuddered at the thought of having someone actually touch her, someone besides herself that was. Seven years, she was realizing as his lips and teeth brought little groans and mewing noises from her throat, was far to long to not have sex. She liked it, despite being limited in her experience. She liked the closeness, the emotion behind the act itself, not just the physically feelings it brought forward. She wanted this closeness with Sherlock, that connection that only came when two people were so lost in one another that the world around them no longer mattered. She'd wanted it for a while, craved it really, but they had never had the time. Something had always come up or the timing had never worked.

Now there was nothing standing in their way, baring an interruption by John or Mrs. Hudson. Even the case they were working wasn't going to stand in their way.

"Ro—room," she finally managed to stammer out. She was not going to have their first time together happen on her couch. Maybe another time, that would be fine. She didn't mind sex on a couch, or in a shower, or anywhere else for that matter. But a first time, the time they learned each other in a more intimate way, that was for the bedroom and a soft comfortable bed.

"Hm," he hummed as he planted one last kiss to her neck before letting his hands drop from her sides.

She wanted to moan at the lack of contact but instead she removed herself from Sherlock's lap, having given herself a small wiggle just to watch his eyes darken and his breath hitch because she could feel the fact that he was beyond aroused.

Amber couldn't help but smile at that as she held out her hand for Sherlock to take. The fact that she could arouse him pleased her greatly, especially since lately it only took a little bit of kissing to get him heated. It had never been that easy with her ex. Sure he had been attracted to her but never as fiercely as Sherlock seemed to be. She wasn't a vain woman, she knew that men had different types, she was just glad she was Sherlock's.

As she lead him to the bedroom she found her stomach knotting. She was a little nervous, more than a little if she was truly honest with herself. Seven years WAS a long time and the fact that she'd only had one previous partner, well that made her even more nervous the more she allowed herself to think about it. She knew Sherlock hadn't exactly gotten himself around in this particular manner, having been pretty much married to his work until she had walked into his life, but she knew men. They had urges whether they were like Sherlock or like a hormone ridden teen in a club for the first time. She supposed it just took a special kind of person to get a reaction from Sherlock Holmes.

Just as they passed through the doorway, Sherlock right behind her, she felt his arms wrap around her waist, tugging her back against him, his hands flat on her stomach. He nuzzled her neck, a very un-Sherlock like thing to do. Then again, she didn't know how he acted in this kind of situation. She was looking forward to all the little surprising things she learned about him.

She giggled lightly when he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot on her neck before shivering at the rush of sensation that coursed through her body as the two of them slowly moved farther into the room. Sherlock reached behind him to shut the door.

They walked until they could finally go no further unless they wanted to fall face forward onto the bed. Granted that was where they wanted to be, it probably wouldn't have been very romantic to trip over one another, though it might have made for a funny story later down the line.

Carefully, and surprisingly skillfully, she managed to turn herself around in the circle of his arms so that she could stand on tip-toe to kiss him, her arms lacing around his neck and pulling him down more to her level to counteract the zing of pain that went through her hip as she tried to match his height.

As her lips assaulted his, he allowed his hands to once more travel to the hem of her tee shirt, enjoying the fact that it was easily removable compared to the button ups she usually wore. His fingers ghosted over the flesh on her hips, careful because he knew that there were still bruises colouring her pale skin and that those bruises were a little more than tender to the touch.

However, as soon as his fingers were clear of the bruises, which were just visible over the band of her jeans, he allowed himself to fully touch, to gently kneed at her sides as he moved his hands, and her shirt, further up her body.

This time when he came to just under her breasts he kept moving until he forced her to stop kissing him and raise her arms so the shirt could be taken off. She grinned up at him, standing there in a little lacy blue bra and her jeans, her feet bare. He gave her a grin in return as he leaned down and captured her lips as her own hands began to push off his jacket which he was glad to be rid of. He shook it off his arms, letting it fall to the floor in a heap as her nibble little fingers began to work at the buttons of his shirt, their lips moving and dance together.

It wasn't long before he felt her hands on his bare chest, a new sensation for sure. Her hands were achingly slow as they moved over his rather slender frame from his chest to his stomach, though he had to give her some credit because since meeting her he was putting on a little more weight. He knew he was rather lean, wiry and fit, which he knew some woman liked and he hoped to hell that Amber didn't mind.

"You've put on weight," she said, as if reading his mind, after pulling away with the widest grin he had ever seen on her face. "I'm happy," she mumbled as she laid a kiss on his chest over his heart just as she was pushing his shirt off his shoulders in the same manner as she had his jacket. That too pooled on the ground in the ever growing pile of discarded clothing.

When her hands went to his waist, he froze.

Having sensed the change in his body, Amber stilled her hands and looked up at him. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she searched his face for any signs that he wanted to stop. While his body was saying yes, and boy was it saying yes by the way his trousers bulged just below where her hand sat, that didn't mean he wanted to. "Do you want to stop?"

"No," he managed to say as the reality of what they were about to actually hit him. He was a man of science. He had once approached sex as just that: science. He was...nervous to approach it as something different now. He didn't need to think about what needed to be done, whether to please himself and the one he was with. With Amber he knew he didn't need to worry because she loved him and he loved her. He had never loved, sometimes barely liked, his previous female partners in college. He just wasn't sure of himself and that was a new feeling, more so than falling in love.

Finally he smiled down at her. "Everything is alright," he answered and reached now for the top button of her jeans. Slowly, watching her eyes widen before a small smile floated across her face, he undid the button and pulled down the zipper. Hooking his thumbs under the band of the fabric he began to wiggle the tight fitting denim off her hips and down her legs, crouching down as he did so, occasionally laying a kiss on her thigh.

He left her knickers in place, a swatch of dark blue lace that hung low on her hips and barely covered everything. She now stood before him, bare beside her undergarments, and looking a little more nervous that she had moments before, a faint blush creeping fast into her cheeks. He knew some woman became self-conscious when unclothed in front of men but Amber hadn't seemed to have any problem being less than dressed. It was often that she walked around in only her robe, even having used his when she'd used his shower and she had never once mentioned being uncomfortable or even showing that she was. She usually wore barely there shorts and yoga tops that hung low on her shoulders or tank tops which hugged her body and showed a lot of skin. Granted she wore both outfits only in her flat and only when she knew she wasn't going anywhere, but she didn't seem to be the self-conscious type. Seeing her so vulnerable just served to remind Sherlock that, like himself, she wasn't used to this kind of activity.

"You're, ah, a little over dressed," she gave a throaty, and somewhat hesitant, chuckle as he finally came to stand on his feet in front of her.

She stepped her way out of the jeans around her feet and reached her hands out, which appeared to shake just a little bit either with excitement or nervousness, for the waist of his trousers and made quick work of pushing them off until he was left standing in his black pants. Like she had done, he stepped out of the discarded trousers but he stepped closer to her this time, hearing her intake of breath as he pulled her into his arms flush against his body.

Carefully, he backed her up towards the bed, thankful she didn't have a foot board to get in their way. He lifted her up, realizing how light she truly was. He'd never had to actually lift her before, only had to act as a balance for her when she was unstable. She was lighter than she looked, but then again he was stronger than he seemed.

He managed set her on the bed where she promptly scooted back until her head hit the pillows. He crawled his way up to her, watching for any signs that she wanted to stop, but as soon as he was within arms length she was pulling him down towards her. That action banished any thoughts in his mind that she was having second thoughts.

Their lips met, soft at first before a more instinctual urge took over until they were clinging to one another as hands explored new places and and exposed skin. When his fingers grazed her side he heard her inhale of breath before she wiggled and groaned when he repeated the action. It appeared that her sides, while usually not sensitive, were partial to the lightness of his touch as his hands traveled up and around to her back.

He fidgeted in his efforts to undo her bra, causing Amber to give a quiet laugh as she arched her back in order to help him locate the clasp. When he still fumbled she arched her back more, removing her hands from his body and wiggling until she had her arms behind her back. He watched in fascination at her face, the way she bit at her bottom lip as she worked the clasp until it finally gave way. His eyes, which had been on her face a moment ago, drifted down to her chest as she slipped the lacy fabric off revealing her breasts for his eyes, and later hands and mouth, to feast on.

Amber tossed the bra off the bed, praying that it didn't land on anything which could break if snagged properly in the process. When she didn't hear a thunk of something falling she smiled and turned her attention right back to Sherlock who hadn't really taken his eyes off of her. It felt good to have a man look at her like that again. But it wasn't just lust she saw in his eyes. She could see, just beyond the arousal and need, there was love and a softness she knew no one else would ever get to see.

To anyone else this behavior from Sherlock would be seen as massively out of character, but she knew he cared and felt just like the rest of the world. He was good at it, had probably spent years of his life learning how to act so cold to others and never letting anyone in. However, sometimes people wiggled in, made a home in his heart. John had done so long ago and Amber herself had done so recently. She remembered her mother once telling Kelly and Brianna why their older brother acted different around his girlfriend. Their mother had said that people acted different around the people they loved, they acted in different manners with friends and family and people they didn't like. A personality wasn't linear, it was faceted like a cut diamond. Turn a person one way and you see something different, turn them another way and they'll be completely opposite. It applied to Sherlock, oh did it apply.

While her mind had wondered for a second, she was drawn back to reality at feeling a hand on her breast. She gasped, arched her back a little at the contact which only pushed her flesh further into Sherlock's hand while his mouth moved along her jaw before laying a light nip on just the right spot on her neck. She let out a squeak this time, coming close to a gasping scream. Her body, in that instant, turned into a live wire, every nerve standing on end as the sensations poured in.

Her reaction was like a spark, sending the two of them just that far over the edge that their hands reached for one another, grasped at flesh and skimmed along the lines of the other's body. Eventually the last of their clothing was shed, her knickers and his pants having joined the array of clothing littering the floor around the room.

Sherlock stroked his hand down her chest, between her breast and to the flat of her stomach where it rested for a few moments, as if unsure where he wanted to touch next. He wasn't necessarily skilled in this area, at least hands-on skilled. He read of course and had, on a few occasions for research, watched movies. He knew where he should move his hand, what he should do to arouse her more and bring more of those little mews from her lips. But he wasn't sure exactly what Amber liked. From the noises she made, which pleased him more than he cared to admit, he knew he was on the right path.

So when he trailed his hand lower to the apex between her thighs, heard her gasp as she took in a breath, he knew he was doing something right. When his hand made complete contact with her core he watched Amber closely, judging her reaction and watching her eyes flutter shut as she opened and closed her mouth as he slowly worked her with his fingers.

"Sher—lock," she panted out, her hips now moving with every stroke of his long fingers. He continued to watch her face, judged her arousal and how close she was to orgasm. When he saw her body tighten a minute or so later he caught her scream with his lips, having not really been sure if she was a screamer or not, apparently she was. Her body trembled beneath his, his hand still pushing her until she finally laid limp on the bed, her body giving small intermittent tremors as she fought to catch her breath.

"Not...fair," she breathed out reaching for him with a smile as she pulled his face down to hers for a soft kiss before she over powered him and managed to roll him so that she was now on top.

With him now pushed into the pillows she knew she could do one of two things. She could allow him to enter her or she could mess around with him for a little bit. As she debated what she was going to do, she leaned down so that she was pressed against his chest. The meeting of their lips was not soft, nor gentle. A battle of tongues and growls, Amber felt his hands grip at her hips, trying to move her from where she was but she refused to budge. After one more futile attempt on his part to move her, she felt his arms wrap around her and with one fast movement, and a squeak, she was once more on her back, this time it wasn't Sherlock's hand between her thighs but a more intimate part of his anatomy.

With his arms on either side of her head, Sherlock leaned down pressing the lower half of their bodies together while simultaneously capturing her lips for a fierce kiss as he gently thrust forward, entering her slowly and with some care.

He watched her eyes flutter shut, felt her intake of air against his lips before she let out a shuddering breath, her arms winding tightly around his neck as her legs, still around his waist, wrapped loosely around him. He could feel the pressure of her fingers gripping at his hair as he began to move, slowly at first to allow her adjust.

Together they managed to keep the pace slow for a bit with silent gasps, low moans, and lingering kisses and caresses. He was soft with her, careful, reading her movements, her whispers, her everything. He WANTED to see her reactions to his touch, to the way he moved within her, to the pleasure he seemed to be bringing her. He had never done that before when with a woman. It was usually satisfy himself and his partner as fast as possible and be done with it.

When he felt one strong tug on the hair at the base of his neck, he lost all thought, the pain pushing the already tenuous line between coherent thought and complete passion. The line shattered just as her hands moved from his neck to his back, her already growing nails digging into flesh as their rhythm increased, still moving as one and in unison.

He heard her gasp, felt her tighten around him suddenly after a rather particularly rough thrust. Taking that as a queue but still kept himself gentle and restrained, her healing state still in his mind, though at the moment it was barely there. It took a lot of strength to keep himself so calm and careful.

Amber could barely breathe, and what breath she could take in came in little pants and gasps. The feelings, the connection, everything about the moment seemed to overwhelm and excite her, the first true connection she had in so very long. She knew he was being careful with her, careful not to hurt her him or go to fast. Despite her roughness with him, the tugging at the hair and the nails digging into the skin, he still managed to maintain a soft, if not thorough, pace that was quite literally stealing the air from her lungs.

"Sherlock," she finally managed to gasp, the feeling low in her stomach building slowly as she grasped at him, reaching to pull his face to hers. Just as she managed to capture his lips with her own she felt it, the stirrings of climax. She fought it for only a moment, attempting to draw out the pleasure but it appeared that Sherlock was reaching the point of no return as his own thrusts became more frequent. She let go, allowed herself to moment to feel the utter bliss of the build up until finally she tumbled over the edge, breaking from their kiss to vocalize what she was feeling.

Unlike before Sherlock didn't try to capture the sounds of her orgasm, instead he buried his head in her neck, feeling his own climax fast approaching as she continued to ride the wave of pleasure, her core contracting rhythmically around him. After one final shout, rather a strangled and very loud gasp, from Amber he followed after her, emptying within her until he was spent, panting.

Not wanting to lay on top of her, he carefully removed himself from her, feeling her shudder at the movement. He laid beside her, his arms instinctively reaching for her to pull her back against his body. He felt her trembling, her breathing erratic and her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He was proud that he could make her feel like that, happy that she could make him want to tremble because he too seemed to be in the same position she was.

"I love you," he heard her pant out, her voice barely a whisper as she snuggled back against him.

Sherlock, in a not so rare gesture of affection towards the woman in his arms, kissed her hair and nuzzled against her neck. "I love you too Amber."

With that being said, they both laid their until the much needed sleep took them over. At some point during the night, each of them did rise from bed to clean themselves off but neither of them leaving the bed for longer than was required.

000000000000000

The following morning, Amber woke slowly and with not much hurry. Stretching out under the blanket she gave a contented sigh as she shifted lightly onto her side only to snuggle deeper into Sherlock's back. It only took a moment to realize she wasn't snuggling against the fabric of his pajamas as she usually was, but instead she was pushed flush against his bare back, skin to skin. It was a lovely feeling, her flesh against his. It had been so long since she'd woken up in such a manner.

As she thought of waking skin to skin with Sherlock again, she grinned widely as the events of the evening before traveled to the forefront of her mind, a vivid image of soft lighting, gently touches, and heated kisses. He had been so careful with her, as if she were a doll who might just break if touched to hard. Yet beneath that carefulness there had been such passion and heat that it had shocked her to her very core. She would have never thought, given his highly analytical way of doing things, that he would approach sex with such little thought given. He had acted like any man would, he hadn't over thought things and to her surprise he'd read her body language like he would read a crime scene. In doing so he had left her satisfied more than her ex ever had, more than even herself had managed to do.

Remembering how he'd made her feel, the way he'd made her moan and scream, well that was enough to make her shiver and squirm where she lay. She felt Sherlock shift in front of her, his breathing changing as she tightened her arms around him. She already knew he was awake. "Good morning," she mumbled as she pressed a kiss just between his shoulder blades.

He made a grunting noise before removing her arms so that he could roll over and face her. "How are you feeling?" he asked, as if that was the most natural thing to ask the morning following having finally made love with the one you loved.

"I'm quite good," she snickered as she moved to give him a soft and chaste kiss on the lips. She needed to brush her teeth before she did anything more than that.

He gave her a smile in return, laying his hand on her bare hip and began to lightly stroke the skin beneath his hand. When she hissed his smile dropped and despite the protest that she was naked, he flicked back the blanket to take a look at her hip. What he saw annoyed and angered him. The bruises, the ones from her beating, were still green but on top of that were new bruises, black and purple from where she had been jostled around on the tube the night before. He didn't like seeing those marks on her. I just reminded him that he had failed to keep her safe.

"Why didn't you tell me that it was this bad?" he hissed out pulling the blankets back over them, having for a fraction of a second taken in the sight of her nude form. He would not deny the fact that she was stunning to behold both clothed and unclothed, and he could not deny that he did enjoy looking at her. However, the fact that they were in a basement flat meant that it was chillier than if they were in his flat upstairs and he would not leave her open to those elements just so he could admire her.

"Because it's not," she grumbled in frustration, pulling the blanket with her as she sat up. She stared down at him where he still laid there. "My hip hurts, yes. It's bruised and I'm well aware of the hairline fracture. I was there when it happened and then when the doctor told me that it would take time to heal. But it will heal and there is no use dwelling on it any more. Now can we just lay here for a little bit and enjoy what happened last night?"

"We actually have things we need to see to today," he announced as he too finally pulled himself up so that he was sitting beside her.

Amber groaned, not in pain but in annoyance. "I don't want to leave the bed," she moaned out, rolling her head to the side and looking at him. She just wanted to stay here in bed, with Sherlock, and let the world just disappear for a little while longer. Getting out bed, taking a shower, doing her usual morning routine, that just meant that this moment was over.

"You can stay," Sherlock said as he proceeded to roll out of bed, naked much to Amber's delight.

She watched him walk to the bathroom where he shut the door. She promptly fell over sideways and slammed her head in the pillow before giving a strangled cry of frustration, a feeling she was beginning to become accustom to concerning Sherlock, before she got out of the bed. Wrapped in the blanket she padded her way over to the bathroom door having gotten an pretty interesting idea after a couple minutes of thought.

Waiting until she heard the shower start, she finally knocked twice on the door and waited for him to open it. When he did he was wrapped in a towel. As she saw him look down at her while she looked up she saw the small smirk pull at his lips. It made her smile. "Yes?" he asked.

"Care if I join you?" she prompted in a flirty manner, letting the blanket slip a little from where she kept it balled at her chest. She had never been really good at flirting, not so much with words. She was good with subtle gestures, or not so subtle like she was doing now or how she had acted the last past Halloween. And she knew that worked on Sherlock.

Sherlock's eyes darted down for a moment, catching the swell of her breast just under the damned blanket. He wanted to growl, to actually grab her and pretty much have his way with her. That scared him, that primal urge and how strong it was within himself. He was starting to realize that when it came to Amber it would appear his mind wasn't as rational as he should have been, or as it had been just a few months ago. He often found himself wondering if this was how regular men felt and acted around woman they were attracted to.

He flicked his eyes back up to hers seeing a smirk of her own gracing her lips. "Is that really the wisest thing to do?"

"We've seen each other naked, done quite a bit besides just _see_ one another. I think we're passed the point of embarrassment Sherlock," she teased, knowing what he actually meant before dropping the towel and pushing around him in the door frame. "We'll save water in the long run since we both take forever, plus I need someone to scrub my back." She grinned brightly as she shut the door soundly behind her.

It wouldn't be another hour before they managed to head upstairs to collect John and head to the flower shoppe that belonged to the Morrisons'.

000000000000000

"So what did you read in that address book?" Amber asked as she held tighter onto the pole. They were currently riding the tube, having decided to save the money and hassles that a taxi ride would cause. Sherlock was directly behind Amber, shielding her from anyone in order to keep her from once more bumping her hip. After learning earlier that morning that the new bruises had been from the night before on the tube he was a little more protective. She found it rather cute, but hoped that it didn't last long. She wasn't in the mood to be babied, especially by Sherlock Holmes.

"Mrs. Morrison had a meeting not more than fifteen minutes before the time of her death at the flower shop," Sherlock stated simply as he moved back so that Amber could slip out onto the platform.

Amber's brows furrowed as they joined the retreating crowd heading towards the exit. "Why are we going to the flower place then? Shouldn't we be finding the person she had the meeting with?"

"There wasn't a name listed in the day planner. Since the meeting was at the shop we can assume that there is some kind of log of the meeting. If we can find out who she was meeting than we have found the killer," he said as he ushered up the set of stairs before him.

John frowned at the interaction, remembering how often Sherlock usually just ran on a head of them in situations like this. To see him so...aware of Amber...well something was different. He didn't quite know what it was, but something had changed in their dynamic rather recently and it was apparent, even to him.

"We can't say for certain that the killer is the person she was meeting with. What if that person was a woman looking for a special flower arrangement or delivery? We can't rule these things out," Amber pointed out as she avoided a teenager who was rudely pushing his way through the sea of people in order to get to the lift leading up. On a normal day Amber would have suggested the stairs, even on a bad day she would have. But today, after the day she had yesterday and the way she had spent her night and morning, she wasn't up to the long trek up all those stairs. She suffered through the abuse, feeling Sherlock move her in front of him, John moving to take the place she had been moved from.

"We still need to talk to the husbands again, this time without police presence," John added, eying the couple beside him. It was starting to make him curious, they familiarity. He'd seen this before, this kind of behavior, but usually it occurred when they were alone or among close friends. Such a public display was a little confusing to say the least. It couldn't just be because Amber was still injured. Sherlock had mentioned something about that earlier, that she'd received a few new bruises from the tube ride home the night before. Yet John knew, on some level or another, that a few bruises was not enough to cause a man who usually refrained from physical contact in public from actually giving in and touching someone without giving it a second thought. He would have asked what had changed if he didn't fear Sherlock's glare and Amber's ire and their personal life being brought up once more. She was still chaffed from Mrs. Hudson barrage of questions that morning on their way out when she had noticed the ring on Amber's finger.

"We'll get to that later," Sherlock muttered as they moved with the the crowd until they were crammed in the lift.

Amber was content, curled in Sherlock's arms, safe from the people shifting and moving. "We also need to speak with Lestrade, tell him what we've found. I don't need to be arrested for interfering with a police investigation, neither do you two," she mumbled hoping that no one around them could hear, but she didn't know what she really hoped for. They were in a crowded area but thankfully most people ignore things that don't concern them. As long as they didn't talk directly about murder she figured they were safe, at least for the time being.

"Or have Lestrade run another drugs bust," John quipped which did get the attention of a few professional people around them. Sherlock silently glared while Amber and John flushed a bit. Talking about a drugs bust was not something they should have mentioned in public.

"Again?" she muttered to John in question as they finally were able to shuffle out of the lift and onto the ground level, once more flowing with the rush of people now leaving the station. She was the first through and waited patiently as Sherlock and John finally joined her. "Seriously you two had a drugs bust? In the flat?"

"Our first case," Sherlock motioned to John.

"'A Study in Pink'?" she drew her brows together as she ran through the case post that John had made so long ago. She'd read it, twice actually. She didn't recall a drugs bust. "I don't..."

"That's because I didn't write that part up. Sherlock had found the lady's pink suitcase and Lestrade somehow figured it out, came and found the case and ran a drugs bust to get Sherlock to finally spill what we had learned," John explained while Sherlock looked, if Amber really thought about it, uncomfortable with the topic.

"Well that's just silly. Sherlock wouldn't..." then she stopped, blinked, and looked at him. "Sherlock?" she questioned.

"We'll talk about it later," he muttered and headed in the direction of the address they were headed to.

Amber stood there for a moment staring at his retreating figure, rather shocked at this recent discovery. She thought she knew Sherlock, as well as she could given his rather private nature. This was just...it was almost too much to take in. She turned to John and asked, "Did he use?" Her voice was just a whisper of confusion.

"I don't know what it was, but yes. From the way he reacted when I started saying the same thing in the flat when it happened, I would assume he had, in the past, used some kind of drug besides cigarettes. Are you alright?" John asked having noticed Amber's usual bright face having taken on a rather dull tone. Her eyes held confusion and a lot of hurt.

"Yeah," she mumbled lightly before shaking her head and plastering a smile on her face. John could see that she wasn't alright but didn't point it out nor ask again. He had learned that Amber, like Sherlock, she didn't like people prying when she didn't want to talk about it. "We best catch up," she said, a little glitter back in her eyes but underneath it all there was that wisp of hurt, because Sherlock hadn't trusted her enough to tell her something so very personal about himself.

John nodded and took of with Amber at a jog to catch up with the consulting detective who hadn't even seemed to notice that the two of them had been missing.

**Questions? Comments? Concerns? Suggestions? Reviews are welcome! (but please be nice, this is the first mature scene I've written in this manner in quite a long time)**

**A/N: So, please be honest. I want feedback on the first half of the chapter. I liked it and enjoyed writing it because it was kind of a way to get into the emotions and feelings of both Amber and Sherlock. I also understand that Sherlock might be coming off as OOC at the moment but I believe I addressed that reason behind Sherlock being different with Amber. A personality is multifaceted and people act/reacted differently with different people and in different situations. So please don't flame or nitpick over that little fact. Sherlock will go back to being more or less Sherlock. On a different note I pray this chapter doesn't get me in trouble with XD  
**

**Notes on reviews:**

cinnamonmyra1997: Oh thank god someone else who understands the hell that is Florida heat XD Our A/C is working again, though not very well so it gets pretty hot during the heat of the day bit I'm dealing with it by way of a fan in my room on high and curtains closed pretty much all day to keep my room dark :) I know, my classes start on the 19th and I'm not ready to go back. I'm pretty sure I've got everything sorted out at the moment. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

skidney: Thank you! I hope you feel the same about this chapter :)

Loki'sdreamer: Yes, it is a rather large step for their relationship but this isn't the first time they've attempted this particular act, it's just things kept getting the way. I was going to make the kind of chapter come later but as I was writing and working out general outlines it just fit right here for what I have planned later on down the line. I really HOPE it doesn't take away from the story. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Empress of Verace: I hate that Amber is hurting as well but she's gonna heal just fine...I think. I never actually thought about it like that, both Mrs. Hudson and Amber having bad hips(granted one will heal while the other will not). Noo, I don't think Amber will be offered herbal soothers but well I believe her reaction would be hilarious. Hope you enjoyed the update!

Gwilwillith: Thank you :) Really hoped you enjoyed the chapter!

bored411: I'm glad to hear it. Oh she doesn't regret anything, in fact (while the pain might catch up with her later on) their recent extracurricular activities might just help in the healing process. But you'll have to wait and see lol. Hope you enjoyed the update.

**Well on that note I'm off to hide on tumblr until I can get the nerve to read any reviews you leave me. **

**Until next week my lovelies!**


	9. Yet another author's note(IMPORTANT)

**Important Author's Note:**

Time heals all wounds, but some take a little longer than others...

To explain the random sentence above is gonna be a little hard and I have a feeling that as I write this I will cry many times...*deep breath*

Today, more like this morning, I lost my dog. Not lost as in she ran off and I can't find her, lost as in she passed. It's a very long and difficult situation to explain but I believe (and will be getting answers to quite soon if I have my way about it) that a bit of human error occured on the part of my vet that caused her passing and trust me on this when I say that I am beyond PISSED OFF.

This situation with my dog having been ill is the main reason I have been having many issues posting chapters. Between classes, homework, a very small social life, and dealing with my dog I have been stretched so thin I have, at one point, made myself violently ill due to the stress and lack of sleep and overall depression I have been feeling. Today, just when I felt like I was finally getting myself out of that dark hole I had found myself in because I had assumed my dog was going to be okay and getting the proper treatment, I received a rude blow that has sent me spiraling back into that hole and I, truthfully, can't find a toe-told to get myself out again. I have no energy to do anything, I am so emotionally and physically drained I can barely finish homework and study for tests, that at this point I'm sure I'm going to fail, later this week.

So again, I must apologize for the lack of updating and the future lack of updating as I once more try to get myself out of the darkness. I appreciate all of you and thank you for sticking around as long as you have. I can understand if this has become annoying, me putting off updating for as long as I have. I can understand if you want to stop reading or if you want to send me angry messages/reviews. I get that. Just don't expect a response if you are mean. I'm depressed enough as it is and don't need anyone adding to that.

I will, as soon as I am able, start writing again but as it is now that could be more than 3-4 weeks given my course load, homework, tests, and personal issues.

Again thank you all for sticking around and being there for me. If you all need to message me I will still answer on here, to both reviews and PMs or you can reach me on my tumblr account which is listed at the top of my profile page.

Know that this is not an easy decision to put this story on temporary hiatus until things are worked out.

It is with a heavy heart that I leave you now with this pitiful author's note.

Thank you!


End file.
